


Broken Angels

by pherryt



Series: Till the End of the Line [5]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpine - Freeform, Angst, Avengers - Freeform, Bits of fluff, Brainwashing, Canon Divergent, Canon Typical Violence, Captured, Collars, D/s elements, Dark fic, Dubious Consent, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt Everybody, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra, Lots of Angst, M/M, Multi, Name Changes, No major character deaths, PTSD, Post Avengers, Road Trip, Smut, Steve POV, Unexpected Bonding, fighiting, giving themselves a mission, low self worth, mentally unstable, mission, post winter soldier, smut as coping mechanism, tempers, temporary deafness, world wide devestation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 62,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22044991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: What if the Avengers never formed because they failed?  What happens to the world then and what do the survivors do?
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Stucky, Winterhawk, ameriwinterwidowhawk
Series: Till the End of the Line [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569418
Comments: 262
Kudos: 71
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019





	1. The World Falls Down

**Author's Note:**

> So this story is a combo of divergent and au. avengers movie still happened, but the end doesn't go off without a hitch. this effects the events of winter soldier and thats where we TRULY go off the rails.
> 
> the story itself was inspired by the MFD prompt 'winter soldier!Cilnt" which means i'm messing with Clint's history and timeline A LOT.
> 
> i've been calling it my dark fic, cause it is certainly darker than anything i've ever written but probably isn't near as dark as the premise could make it. because, it's me, and i do plan to give them a happy ending of sorts. eventually. wait for it.
> 
> there are some scenes with dubious consent - everyones on board though, they're just not communicating because they're all damaged in some way or another. note, this gets reflected in a bunch of things, including the explicit scenes which have some informal d/s elements to them. that is not to say BDSM is unhealthy. it's their approach to it that is.
> 
> beta'd only by me, though Lirael did Alpha it for me and assured me that A) it hurt and B) she wanted more.
> 
> story is not complete, but a couple of the chapters wind up hitting bucky barnes bingo squares so... deadline for those are tomorrow. Sorry for the dump! i wanted someone to look at it first before i put any of it out.
> 
> please let me know if i need to add any tags. i've got a terrible headache and i may have forgotten something.

**PART 1**

Once upon a time, longer ago than most people would have expected, there’d been a boy named Clint Barton. A boy he was no longer, but a deadly weapon that worked in secret, worked alone, until the world began producing people with extraordinary abilities that rivaled even the best of HYDRA.

Aliens came to New York and a new world was born. While they’d been beaten back, the cost had been high. Manhattan became the nuclear ground zero that claimed the lives of many and its heroes… they were the  _ only  _ ones who had survived it.

After a fashion.

Already saturated with Gamma radiation, Bruce survived the blast, only to permanently become the Hulk, tearing a swath across the states. Iron Man – in his effort to deflect the bomb – wound up carrying it to his and everyone else’s doom, Widow closing the portal too early. It exploded in his face, the suit doing what it could to protect him – but Nuclear Explosions hadn’t been something he’d planned for. Disfigured and paralyzed, Tony lived in the suit after Pepper rescued him from SHIELD Medical.

Thor had watched his brother die and he’d gone back to Asgard to mourn. No one knew if he would ever return. Everyone had expected both Widow and Hawkeye to perish, being only human, but Widow had somehow survived – her touch becoming poison to most and Clint…

No one had found Clint’s body. But there was no way he could have survived.

The only one to get out ‘unscathed’ was Steve, due to his Super Soldier Serum and though it had taken him some time to recover, he  _ did  _ recover. Physically. The guilt, however, was eating him alive. The failure, so spectacularly immense, had him withdrawing, going where Fury sent him without question, losing himself to the fight.

By all rights, this should not be a tale with a happy ending. Well, not what most people would consider to be their happy ending. But for the few who’d banded together out of necessity in the fall out, there’d never  _ been  _ an inkling of any kind of happy ending on their horizons.

So they made their own.

* * *

Steve watched Natasha stride toward him, other agents scurrying to get out of the way. She was still as beautiful and as terrifying as ever, her only concession to the danger now inherent in her skin was a pair of gloves added to her usual civilian outfit.

One slip, and any of those agents would be dead.

And Steve longed to feel her fingers on his skin, tracing patterns that would bloom beneath her fingertips, never the same twice, leaving red, blistering skin in their wake. He found it… exhilarating.

She fell into step beside him.

“You didn’t stay last night,” Steve murmured, even though he’d known she wouldn’t, that he didn’t deserve more than what he got.

Something had broken in Widow that day in NY. Truthfully, they all had, the few of them that remained, but Steve had the feeling she’d been hanging by a thread before that and NY had pushed her over the edge. The loss of Hawkeye – of Clint Barton – had taken a toll.

He knew he was a stand in for Clint, for the simple reason that he was the only one who could bear her poisoned touch. That what they had, this thing between them, it didn’t mean anything more than that - no matter what he craved or how lonely he was. Even assassins could become touch starved and Steve craved the punishment that her touch brought him.

It was mutually beneficial, but to say Steve didn’t care for Nat would be a lie.

He just held no illusions that she felt the same. He was just all she had left, all she could let herself have. If he wasn’t so desperate for someone who understood him, he might have made a bigger deal about how she’d been left with no choice – Steve, or nothing – but Nat had made it  _ very  _ clear that she didn’t appreciate him trying to be chivalrous.

Had punished him thoroughly for it, in fact.

It had been one of his favorite nights, left wrung out and boneless, but he’d seen the look in her eyes and, as much as he’d enjoyed it, he hadn’t dared to push the matter any further.

Perhaps she was just as desperate as he was. That was something he could understand.

Nat didn’t answer his question, didn’t explain why he’d turned around in the changing room and she’d been gone. He’d hoped she’d come home with him, had hoped she’d help him burn off the energy and anger from the mission, but Widow had been gone, like a ghost, her moods mercurial and dangerous these days.

Still, Steve had wanted… it didn’t matter what he wanted. When had it ever mattered? He’d wanted to be healthy – he got that, at the cost of everything and everyone around him. He’d wanted to go to war, to make a difference – looking around the world these days, he really wasn’t sure that he had. He’d wanted Bucky – and he’d led Bucky straight to his death.

Anything Steve had ever wanted had been taken from him, or perverted in some way – like the genie’s wishes. Careful what you wish for.

Nat broke into his thoughts, keeping him from spiraling further. “Any idea what Fury wants?”

Steve shook his head. “Security’s been tighter and information has been restricted a great deal since New York, you know that. Everyone’s been taking advantage – all of America’s enemies, SHIELDS enemies, hell, even some corporations seem to be getting in on the deal.” He gave her a look. “I thought you would know what he called us in for. You  _ are _ a spy.”

“You don’t have to sound so disapproving of that,” she said. “Last night’s mission went perfect, by the way. We rescued the hostages  _ and  _ I got the intel.”

Shaking his head, Steve kept quiet. The old Steve would have given her hell for running a secondary mission under the first without him being aware of it, but Steve just didn’t care anymore.

He’d lost everything and everyone he’d cared for and he’d failed to do the only thing left for him – protect America. Protect innocent people from the bullies.

It took finding out what Fury wanted to shock Steve from his thoughts a second time. As jaded as Steve was these days, he didn’t expect anything Fury had to talk to him about to throw him, but when he saw the carriers – Project Insight – a seed of terror was planted.

Even Nat blinked when she saw what Fury and SHIELD had been building.

Maybe if they’d had one of these, Loki wouldn’t have won, Steve thought. On the other hand, innocent people had already suffered so much. In the wrong hands, the havoc that could be wrought by the carriers was uncountable.

Steve balked and Fury lectured, Nat remaining strangely quiet. Steve stalked out of there and returned to his lonely apartment – and his life went to hell.

The next few days left him and Nat running from the bad guys within SHIELD, the bad guys Steve had  _ thought  _ he’d eliminated over 70 years ago – oh look, another failure – and Fury presumably dead.

And then Bucky.

And it was like the sun had come out to melt the ice – only he was standing on top of that ice, and there was no solid ground beneath it. The revelation of Bucky left Steve flailing, driven between hope, despair and even more guilt.

Steve failed again, failed to stop Project Insight. The carriers launching and bestowing upon the world the very destruction Steve had feared, and then he fell.

It was only fitting, he thought as the wind rushed past him, that he should fall because of Bucky, since Bucky had fallen because of him. It was his last thought before he passed out, before he hit the water.

He didn’t expect to wake up.

_ “In an unprecedented move, the World Council launched an offensive against the populace of the world. Unseen, unexpected, guns tore through cities and families alike, killing many and leaving destruction in their wake. The death toll is immeasurable, the numbers still rolling in, but an estimate that over half the worlds population has been summarily executed for no other reason than that the World Council felt that they were dangerous in some way. _

_ “Among those killed were countless children. Now I ask you, how were those children possibly a threat – “ _

The broadcast cut off, turning into static. There was a quiet mumble and then the sound of someone standing up. A couple of clicks, like an old-fashioned radio, and the static cleared, a new broadcast starting.

_ “ – today. SHIELD announced its position as HYDRA shortly before launching the largest attack on mankind in recorded history, wiping out billions. The destruction is still ongoing – wait… It appears a new group of superheroes has attacked HYDRA’s gunships. Yes, there’s a concerted effort going on. There may be some hope yet. There’s Iron Man in his new suit, and it appears Thor has returned. Others are with them, a man with metal wings, someone dressed in red, another in all black. There are other ships in the sky and… it’s happening, the gunships are going down. But who are these people? Who are our rescuers – “ _

Another click and that broadcast also cut off. Steve tried to move, but he was still so groggy. He didn’t feel as bad as after New York, but Bucky was strong and he’d been relentless.

Honestly, Steve had thought he was dead. He  _ should  _ have been dead.

He deserved to be, for all the good he’s done – or not done, as the case may be.

“I can’t believe you pulled him out of the water.” That voice sounded familiar to Steve, but he couldn’t place it. “You know you can’t keep him, right? You were  _ supposed _ to kill him, Winter. You’ll be punished when they find out you’ve disobeyed orders.”

There was no answer that Steve could hear and he tried forcing his eyes to open but it only made his head whirl and his stomach heave. He choked in his effort, but he  _ had  _ to, he had to see Bucky. Because it had to be him, right? Winter had to be the Winter Soldier, who Steve now knew was his best friend, Bucky. And if Bucky plucked him from the water after he fell…

Then maybe there was something of Bucky left inside of the Winter Soldier.

Maybe Steve had managed to reach him after all?

The radio clicked back on and Steve faded in and out as it droned on, narrating the fight between the new superheroes and HYDRA, interspersed with news of the sheer global destruction that had taken place and dire predictions of the anarchy this would cause across the world.

The announcer started calling it an Apocalyptic event, and every time Bucky and the unknown voice flipped channels, each radio announcer agreed with the first, listing off death tolls, cities leveled, monuments destroyed.

Steve choked again, tears pricking his eyes.

He should have stopped this. He  _ could  _ have, but he hadn’t. New York had paved the way for this, when they’d failed to work as a team. And now the entire world was suffering because of the egos of a few men.

Including Steve’s.

His breath came shorter and faster until he couldn’t breathe at all, like all the asthma attacks he hadn’t had  _ in years _ , since Erskine, since the serum, all converged on him at once.

He’d like to say his sight went black, but he hadn’t yet successfully opened his eyes. But sparks appeared on the edges of the darkness enveloping him and his head whirled though he wasn’t moving and then Steve passed out again.

“What are you thinking, Winter?” that familiar voice woke him again an unknown amount of time later, though Steve had the feeling it hadn’t been all that long.

“I’m thinkin’ – “

_ That’s Bucky’s voice _ , Steve realized with a jolt, confirming his conjecture of who Winter was.

“That we don’t have masters anymore. We can do – or keep – anything we want.” A finger trailed down Steve’s cheek and he shuddered, a small whimper escaping him. He remembered long ago nights, cold ones, threadbare blankets, when he and Buck sought solace and warmth in each other. Soft touches and whispered words.

This didn’t feel the same. But then, neither Steve nor Bucky were the same, were they?

“We can do what we want, and no more punishments,” said the first voice with glee as Bucky’s touch disappeared. Where  _ had  _ Steve heard that voice before? If only he could open his eyes, get his body to listen to him. It was like his childhood all over again, his adolescence and early twenties when his own body betrayed him. He struggled, vaguely noting that the radio was still playing in the background, picking up random phrases, here and there.

“- disappearance of Captain America – “ “- presumed dead -“ “New heroes – “

Fuck, where was Nat? Was she still alive? On her way to rescue him? Would she dare once she realized it was the Winter Soldier who had him?

Something snicked around his throat and Steve swallowed reflexively, feeling it rub against his skin.

“Open your eyes, cap. We know you’re awake,” the unknown, tantalizingly familiar voice, crooned at him.

Steve fumed silently. Like he hadn’t been trying to do just that this whole time, to figure out where he was and case the situation. Opening his eyes was a great effort and Steve wondered just how badly he was hurt, but he finally did it.

Then he saw the IV lines running to his arms and wondered if he was drugged instead.

Or both.

When he dragged his eyes away from the lines, he found Clint Barton’s face staring down at him with a smirk and Steve stared back in shock, breath coming too quick once more. Barton was dead. He had to be dead. There was no way he could be here, now. It just… wasn’t possible.

Barton’s face held a few scars, faint, like they were old as hell, but Steve  _ knew  _ they hadn’t been there before the disaster in New York.

Had Steve left his would be teammate to his death? They’d searched, like they’d never been able to search for Bucky – and look how much of a mistake  _ that  _ had been – but never found Barton. Would he be angry about that? Guilt flooded him once more, an all too familiar feeling settling into him like an old coat – worn and should be replaced but too comfortable otherwise to give up.

They passed long moments that way - too, too long moments - before Barton called over his shoulder, “Hey Winter, I think you broke him.” Barton snickered at some internal joke Steve wasn’t privy too, his grin getting wider.

Steve tried to sit up, to jerk back from how Barton leaned in towards him, frowning when he still felt too weak to shift much. His heart beat faster and the slow squint of Barton’s eyes down at Steve unnerved him.

“Let me go,” Steve - voice far too hoarse and his throat scratchy as hell - growled, trying to disguise his fear and his very inappropriate response to being their captive. He knew indulging in punishment – both by himself and with Nat’s eager help – would backfire on him some day.

He’d just never imagined it would be  _ this  _ way.

Barton tapped his chin and rolled his eyes skyward, as if he was  _ actually _ considering it, but then he shook his head, making a show of being disappointed that Steve  _ knew  _ was fake as shit.

“Hmm…. I don’t think so. Winter’s rather keen on keeping you, and we don’t get to keep much,” Barton said.

“We can keep anything we want, now, Hawk,” Bucky said, draping his arms over Barton’s shoulders in a familiar gesture, Barton leaning back into it, his smile turning into a gloating smirk. Bucky looked at Steve with a hungry glint in his eyes. It was a little mad, that look, one that he’d seen and had absolutely ignored on the carrier, and at the bridge, certain he could reach Bucky and pull him back out.

Oh, how wrong he’d been.

Steve had failed – again.

And yet…

And yet here he was because Bucky  _ wanted  _ him here. Steve had no connection to Hawkeye – he’d known him all of the length of a single, disastrous battle – but Bucky and Steve had history.

The fact that Steve was even here and alive – it had to  _ mean  _ something, didn’t it?

“Bucky – “ he said with a sharp inhale, forcing one trembling hand up to reach out.

Beside Winter, Barton frowned. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Bucky’s face changed in an instant, going from a lethargic, coiled tension to shoving away from Barton with a growl. “Winter!” Bucky snarled out. “I’m not your precious  _ Bucky.  _ You lost  _ him _ in the mountains far from home, to a falling death, to snow and pain and fear. I’m Winter and that’s all you get to call me.”

Steve’s chest constricted, his heart breaking at Bucky -  _ Winter’s _ words. Because he wasn’t wrong. That was exactly what Steve had done. Too caught up in duty to go back for the man who’d meant  _ everything  _ to him.

“I’m sorry – “ Steve said. “I never meant to – if I’d known. God, Buck –  _ Winter _ , I would never have left you behind. You gotta know that!”

“Enough!” Winter snapped. Steve could see his fingers flexing, hear the whirring of that damn metal arm. Winter still glared, Barton moving up behind him and leaning on him, twirling an arrow in one hand like a baton. The easy familiarity, something Steve had once shared with Bucky but would never have again, was a knife to the heart.

And suddenly, Winter’s anger was gone, and said, smugly, “He’s gonna help us.”

“Oh, is he, now?” Barton asked mildly. “What is he helping us with?”

“Whatever it is, I’m not doing it,” Steve protested. He fought to protect people, not endanger them. Or at least he tried to. That had to mean something. God, he hoped it did and he wasn’t deluding himself.

“Oh, you will. You’ll be on our side soon enough.”

“And what is ‘our’ side?” Steve spat. “More HYDRA? I’ll die first before I ever  _ knowingly  _ help them.”

“No,” Barton said, jerking forward, freezing the arrow he’d been playing with. “We’re not fighting for them or for anybody ever again. From now on, it’s us against the world. Figure the world owes us, like a whole goddamn lot, and we’ll be collecting our due.”

The smile Winter sent Steve was so un-Bucky-like Steve could have cried. It held that manic light again, somehow, matching his eyes, and it was twisted up cruelly. “Don’t worry your patriotic head about anything. Right now, our objectives line up. We’re going after HYDRA.”

Barton gave Winter a sharp, appraising look. “The Chairs?”

Winter met Barton’s eyes and held them, Steve holding his breath at the tension between them. The word was normal, an everyday word, but the way Barton had said it set Steve’s teeth on edge.

When Winter gave a grim nod, Clint’s grin turned gleefully eager. “When do we start?”


	2. Bitter truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes bingo square " ledger"

It turned out, they couldn’t start until Steve was healed up.

It also turned out that the thing that had placed around his neck was a collar, designed to keep him in check. Well, not him specifically, as Barton explained it.

“The collar would kill a normal easy enough,” Barton said. “Because it was designed to hold stronger people then them. Winter and I are intimately familiar with how they work, so don’t get any ideas. You can’t pick the lock, it’ll explode.”

“And don’t think of doing any suicidal heroics either,” Winter chimed in from across the room. “Blast range is big enough to take out the Hulk.”

Steve scoffed at that. He wasn’t sure  _ anything  _ could take out the Hulk. But it wasn’t actually a theory he wanted to test. Either with the collar  _ or  _ the Hulk.

“If that’s true, that means it could take out both of  _ you _ as well,” Steve pointed out.

Winter shrugged. “Don’t care. Long as it does the job, doesn’t leave me lying half dead in the snow for any old evil organizations to pick up.”

Barton grinned – god, it looked creepy and Steve didn’t think he actually stopped grinning, it just changed emotions and how the hell did he  _ do  _ that? – “Go ahead, cap,” Barton challenged.

Steve stared at them both in horror – and decided not to test the words. Winter had been right, anyway. If Winter and Barton were going after HYDRA, then that was something Steve could get behind. He’d finally be doing some good, and the longer he spent in Winter and Barton’s presence, the more opportunities Steve would have to get through to them.

He would have gone after Winter anyway, so why waste this chance?

Thankfully, Steve healed up fairly quick, and despite the injuries he’d sustained from his fight with Winter and his fall, he was good enough to go before the end of the week. 

He used that time to try and reach them, of course, which had various levels of success. They never left him completely alone, going out one at a time if they needed to leave. Wherever it was they were holed up, neither of them seemed all too concerned about being discovered.

With what Steve was picking up on the radio, the world was in too much chaos right now to worry about the Winter Soldier and… whatever Barton was.

What  _ was  _ Barton?

“We looked for you,” Steve said quietly, on the occasion that Barton was left with him and Winter had gone who knew where.

“Good for you,” Barton said with a sneer, not even looking up at Steve. “Keeping your conscience clean. Good American soldier.” He was making arrows. Where Winter was all too frighteningly still, Barton seemed to have a need to keep busy, keep moving.

“You didn’t have to hide, Barton. We didn’t blame you for Loki,” Steve pressed.

An arrow snapped in half in Barton’s hands. He glared down at it, then at Steve and Steve saw his face was pale. “No, but HYDRA did.”

Steve inhaled sharply, pain twinging in his ribs when he did, but he ignored it, keeping his focus on Barton, who’d stood and stalked away from Steve, keeping his back to him. His fists were clenched, his shoulders tight.

“How long have they had you?” Steve asked quietly.

Barton didn’t answer at first and the silence stretched interminably. A door shut somewhere and he was sure Winter was coming back. When the door to the crummy room they were in opened, Winter strode in, carrying a few duffle bags. He dropped them, eyes catching sight of Barton before flicking over to Steve with a glare.

“Almost as long as Winter,” Barton said suddenly, just as Steve had given up getting an answer. “Maybe longer. Memory gets a little fuzzy sometimes.”

Almost as long as –  _ Jesus.  _ HYDRA had Winter for 70 years. He must have said it aloud because Barton swung around suddenly, his eyes glinting with that same madness Steve was starting to recognize, and he stalked towards Steve slowly. Winter reached out briefly, trailed his metal fingers over Barton’s arm as he passed him. Barton’s steps hitched, pausing for the briefest of instances and then resumed till he hovered by Steve.

“Yeah, I’m old. Look good for my age, don’t I? They used to freeze Winter between missions, to prolong his life, his… usability. But me? Nah, they didn’t bother. Didn’t have to.” Barton straddled Steve where he was bound and Steve’s breath caught, eyes going wide.

No, no, no. Not now…

“Y’know, I’ve lived a long damn time and whatever it is that keeps me going, it kept knocking out the fancy programming they used on me too. They’ve had to wipe me a lot over the many,  _ many  _ years they’ve had me,” Barton said dryly, sliding a hand over Steve’s cheek roughly. “But it always comes back eventually. So, at any given time, I remember more about my own past than he does of his. He gets to keep only what they want him to keep. And his memories didn’t keep coming back.”

“That goddamn chair. You know how much that thing  _ hurts _ ?” Clint shuddered. “Of course you don’t. Well, Winter was lucky he didn’t remember shit. Meant they used the chair on him less than they did me. Until you came along,” Barton growled.

“He was punished because of you.  _ You  _ caused him more pain,” Barton said, yanking Steve’s head back by the hair.

“I didn’t – “ Steve protested. How could he have known? He would never cause Buck – Winter any grief or pain if he could help it. He hadn’t even wanted to  _ fight  _ him, except that circumstances had  _ forced  _ his hand.

Barton slapped Steve. “Are you  _ happy?” _

Unable to move his head against Barton’s unbelievably strong grip, Steve looked desperately at Winter from the corner of his eyes. Winter just watched, not making a move to stop Barton.

“The Chair,” Steve choked out, latching onto the words, willing his guilt and his… arousal… away, and hoped the latter hadn’t been noticed. “They used the chair to hurt you, to, to brain wash you? You and W-winter?”

Winter grunted and Clint shuddered.

“Then Winter’s right, I’ll gladly help you. I’ll go after HYDRA, destroy the chairs – “

“Willingly?” Barton asked suspiciously, forcing Steve’s head back further and leaning down to peer at him, caging him. Steve almost whimpered but held it back by the slimmest thread of willpower.

“Of course,” Steve breathed. It was important that Barton believe him. Winter had already made up his mind. Maybe, instinctively, he still trusted Steve. Not enough to untie him, yet, but enough. Steve had to hold on to that.

“Told ya.” Winter finally broke his silence. “He don’t like bullies and he’s always scrapping for a fight.” Fuck, how much was Winter actually remembering?

“How do we know he won’t turn on us, use the chairs like  _ they  _ did?” Barton asked.

Winter sneered at Steve. “Punk loves a good fight. Always got ‘em raring to go after. Think he gets off on ‘em.”

Steve closed his eyes and swallowed as memories threatened to take him over. It hadn’t  _ been  _ like that. Not exactly.

Fights had been an excuse for Steve to get Bucky's hands on him. Both before, when it felt like that was the only way he could get that simple touch, a mix of hard and soft that was uniquely Bucky. And after, when onlookers couldn't judge a fella for helping another. It was a self-serving means to an end, one that Winter obviously didn't remember as well as he thought.

Though he wasn’t  _ completely  _ wrong, either.

“And the world has conspired to take away his favorite toy – SHIELD. No more government sanctioned fights to get into.” Winter wandered closer while he spoke, Steve’s eyes popping open to watch his advance, Winter’s hair swinging in his face. Winter trailed his metal hand up Barton’s back, and Barton closed his eyes, arching into Winter’s hand, still crouched over Steve, the fingers in his hair flexing.

Steve swallowed another whimper.

“The itch’ll become too much soon, but he needs to feel like it’s okay, what he’s doing, so he’ll help us. We’re taking out the bad guys, after all.” Winter grinned and it held something in it that made Steve shudder. “And he’s Captain  _ fucking _ America. A national icon. He can’t do anything else.”

Barton’s eyes slitted open, the heat in them taking Steve’s breath away. It would have pinned Steve in place if he wasn’t already restrained. Despite the collar, Barton had been unwilling to unbind him for long. Steve wondered if that would change, now.

If it was, it wouldn’t be right that second. Barton swung off of Steve, giving his hair a final yank before letting go and smashing his lips into Winter’s –

Steve choked, a stab of jealous arousal flooding him as he watched them kiss, watched their hands wander and remembering a time when it was  _ Steve  _ who had the right to touch Winter any way he pleased. Remembering when it was  _ him  _ who had reveled in their shared touches, the bruising kisses and desperate motions.

Seeing Barton and Winter gravitating toward each other, seeing Winter’s acceptance of Barton’s advances – the knife in Steve’s gut twisted more and more.

It was quickly apparent that they had no care what he saw and in fact, Steve was certain Barton was deliberately doing it, Winter seeming to be a little more circumspect (inasmuch as he wasn’t usually the initiator beyond a trailing hand, at any rate) but where Barton led, Winter eagerly followed after a reflexive check of the area before melting into Barton, or shoving him into a wall.

Steve was then left with the choice of watching  _ everything  _ in their pure, naked glory and animalistic need or closing his eyes and still  _ hearing  _ every goddamn little moan, every sharp cry, and the slide of skin on skin, his mind left to imagine the view.

He never did close his eyes. Couldn’t make himself lose that bit of Winter that he was allowed.

Winter was rougher, more uninhibited than the man Steve remembered and the thought of Winter being like that with  _ Steve  _ instead of Barton had Steve hard and choking down his whimpers as he watched every thrust and bounce, wishing it was him being torn apart and put back together again.

With no outlet for his need, Steve was fucking glad when it was at last time to go. At least in a fight, he could release a lot of that pent up tension.

They left the warehouse they’d been holed up in, and moved toward a non-descript van, all of them heavily armed except Steve – they obviously didn’t trust him completely yet, no matter what Winter said - Steve caught something out of the corner of his eye – a signal from Widow.

God, he’d forgotten all about Nat.

And he couldn’t do a damn thing without putting them all in danger. Steve risked a glance at Barton – he’d been Widows partner, after all – and watched the man whirl, faster than Steve thought possible – and whip out his bow, an arrow nocked, ready and loosed before Steve could blink.

Steve didn’t see the arrow land, and there was no pained cry from the darkness of the garage, but then a shadow separated itself from the wall and glided forward, the arrow that had been shot held in the shadow’s hand.

Nat.

Steve wanted to scream, to yell at her to leave before it was too late but couldn’t find his voice. Couldn’t decide if she would want to be there regardless, the same as Steve.

It was her choice, in the end.

She stalked closer, her eyes wide, disbelief and anger coloring her face, the arrow held in a white knuckled grip.  “Clint, you’re still alive?” Nat breathed out.

“Nat,” Steve finally managed, trying to warn her that Barton wasn’t who they’d thought he was. Winter’s hand slapped over Steve’s mouth, Winters body pressing closely in behind them. Steve almost groaned from the touch, starved for it, for touch, from Winter, starved for  _ Bucky. _

“Bartons live forever, or at least a really long time,” Barton said, eyes flashing. “Takes a lot to kill one of us, and believe me, it’s been tried.”

She reached for him, then seemed to remember her gloveless state and her fingers curled into her hand and she pulled away, pulled back. Something glinted in Barton’s eyes, something close to anger and rejection as his hand flew out to capture her wrist and yanked her close.

Nat’s face twisted in horror as she yanked out of his grasp. “No! Don’t touch me! You’ll – “

“I’ll what?” Barton demanded. Nat didn’t answer, and he looked down at his hand curiously, turning it over and around as he peered at the red burns slicing over his fingertips. “Hmm… it seems the rumors  _ are  _ true. You’ve truly got a Widow’s sting now, don’t you, little spider?”

She drew away, her eyes wide. “You should be dead,” she whispered. “My touch – “ her eyes flickered to Steve and back to Barton. “How?”

“Told ya, takes a lot to kill a Barton,” Barton said. “Missed ya, Nat.”

Tears filled her eyes. “If you missed me, it’s your own damn fault.” Her hands clenched together; her body coiled in a way Steve knew all too well. “We looked for you, believed you were dead. And here you’ve been all along, with  _ him?  _ The  _ enemy?” _

“Oh, Nat,” Barton crooned, crowding her. “I’ve always been with them. I was just the face that HYDRA made ‘public’ while Winter stayed in the shadows. He was always a little too flashy with that arm for anything else, really.”

Nat shook with rage, striking at Barton. “You  _ lied  _ to me!”

Barton flowed back, evading her jab easily. Undeterred, she swung forward with much less finesse than Steve was used to seeing. “You… you… I  _ defected  _ for you!”

She choked on a sob as Barton caught her and yanked her close.

“You promised a better life, a better world,” she said, the words coming out broken as Barton wrapped his arms around her almost tenderly and Steve stared in shock, in horror, watching Nat become more emotional than he’d ever seen her. Her voice came out in a broken whisper. “There’s red in my ledger and it’ll never come out…”

“It never does, Nat, and it never will,” Barton’s voice was just as broken. “I’ve lived too long like this to make it right. But I’ll be damned if anyone ever controls me again.”

“Or me,” Winter said quietly.

“Come with us, Nat,” Barton said, nuzzling into her neck. Steve watched, fascinated, as Barton clearly didn’t care what her touch was doing to him, as Winter stayed with Steve, his body loose and ready instead of tense or jealous. “We’re gonna make those sons of bitches pay. Could be fun. Like old times.”


	3. Safehouse

Nat joined them.

Steve probably should have been more shocked than he was, but he and Nat had grown intimate since New York and he’d have had to be blind not to notice what losing Barton had done to her.

Of course she’d jumped at the chance to be by his side once more, just as Steve had with Bucky – or would have, if Winter hadn’t gotten there first.

That didn’t mean she went calmly. She was still pissed at Barton and she showed it in every step she took, every seemingly innocuous word she said. And the worse she got, the more pleased Barton became, which only infuriated her more.

And Winter just… watched. No tension radiated off him, no jealousy. It was the oddest fucking thing because Bucky had been jealous of  _ anyone  _ who looked at Steve sideways. Peggy had been hard on their relationship, because Peggy was allowed to have everything Bucky wasn’t, even if he and Steve hadn’t stopped what was between them.

Couldn’t have, if they’d tried.

Peggy’s relief when Bucky was gone had almost killed Steve. He’d loved them both, and Peggy hadn’t much cared that he and Bucky had been a thing – she’d always been more open minded than most – but had admitted to Steve that she’d thought it for the best, safer for  _ him _ that Bucky was gone.

She’d grieved alongside Steve, but not the way he had.

Having Bucky within his reach, but untouchable - except as Winter now and even then, not - was killing Steve all over again. But watching Winter’s lack of jealousy over Barton and Nat was raising some ideas in Steve’s mind.

They drove for over six hours in a strange silence, interspersed by smatterings of random thoughts from Barton, or a question about their current target from Winter.

“The Chairs first,” Barton said, eyes glued to the highway as he dodged in and around abandoned cars, some of which looked burned out. He had one elbow hanging out the window, the other held loosely on the wheel, like he was going for a Sunday drive.

“How many do you remember?” Winter asked. “I can’t –“ his voice faltered, fists clenching into his thighs. It was the first hint that something was bothering him that Steve had heard or seen yet.

“I know, babe,” Barton said softly. “I do. I’ve counted. There are 9 of them, ‘round the world. We’ve got some travelin’ to do.”

“What if they’ve moved them?” Winter breathed out, talking low – low enough that Steve  _ only  _ heard Winter because of the serum.

Barton cut a glance over to Winter. “We’ll hunt them down. They made us into weapons, so let’s show them what they did, strike fear into  _ their  _ hearts for a change.”

“Yeah,” Winter said, his voice firming up once more. “I like that plan.”

Nat pushed forward between the seats and leaned an elbow behind each of their heads, letting her hands dangle loosely over the seat like she didn’t have a care in the world, like she wasn’t in a van with some of the most deadly people Steve had ever met.

Then again, she was one of them.

“Didn’t they have one in D.C.? I mean, if they punished Winter here because of Cap, they had to have one, right?” Nat pointed out.

“Already taken care of,” Winter said grimly.

Nat nodded. “Of course, how silly of me. So our next target is…?”

“Subtle, Nat,” Barton said, flashing a grin over his shoulder.

“Wasn’t trying to be,  _ Clint _ ,” Nat retorted.

“Another hour or so, we should be in Detroit. We stop there for the night, then from there, it’s another half hour to our target. A farmstead, out of the way, looks abandoned. They won’t be expecting us at all,” Barton answered.

“You sure about that? If you already destroyed the chair in D.C., then… they gotta be expecting you to go after the rest,” Steve said.

“They ain’t so easy to move,” Winter said quietly.

“And they’ll never truly believe we’ll have turned on them. They’ve had us for too long,” Barton said. “They won’t see us coming till it’s too late.”

“That’s not going to last long. One or two more bases and  you won’t have that element of surprise any more.  _ All  _ their bases will be on high alert.”

“Let them,” Barton growled. “We’ll wipe them all out. Every last one of ‘em.”

“And they won’t be expecting four of us,” Winter said. “At most, two, but not four.”

“They’ll never know what hit ‘em,” Barton’s smile was grimly pleased and sent something skittering along Steve’s skin. What had he and Nat gotten themselves into? Somehow, Steve was certain it would be more than just beating up a few bad guys.

* * *

The roads had been a strange mix of empty of traffic and burnt out hulks turning the highways into an obstacle course. Barton had handled it in stride as Steve watched the devastation rolling past them.

He had done this by failing to stop Project Insight when it launched. He was responsible for the destruction left in its wake. By the time they stopped for the night - at another warehouse, Barton heading toward it unerringly – Steve’s skin felt tight, his limbs twitchy.

And he wasn’t going to get the release he needed from Nat. With choices before her, with  _ Barton  _ there, there was no way she’d choose Steve again.

He hadn’t expected that to hurt so much. Had thought he’d done all the hurting he could, and yet he was wrong. Again.

Digging his nails into his palms harshly enough to make them bleed, Steve concentrated on keeping himself in control, in breathing in and out evenly. The collar around his neck chafed, the implied danger of it helped, but it wasn’t  _ enough _ .

He really needed to fucking hit something, right now.

The van rolled to a stop and Barton got out with a sharp gesture to Winter before taking off. When Steve moved to open his door, Winter growled.

It sent a shiver through him, but Steve didn’t have Winter either. Didn’t have him  _ or  _ Bucky. He shoved it down.

“Stay,” Winter said, glaring back at him before stepping out of the van himself, leaving it to Steve and Nat, alone for the first time since the garage.

Nat snickered. “He’s got your number, doesn’t he?”

“This isn’t funny, Nat,” Steve said.

“It is to me,” she answered, leaning forward as she murmured the words, her lips scraping the shell of his ear softly and leaving a burn in their wake. Steve closed his eyes on the shudder he couldn’t hold back his time. “He may not remember everything, but apparently, he remembers the important stuff.” She scraped a hand down his chest, over his clenching stomach, teasing lightly at his hard cock through his pants.

“Jesus,” Steve whimpered, hips pressing up to get a firmer touch –

She pulled away with a smirk, leaving him breathing hard. He was ready to beg for more, and Steve’s mouth had opened to do just that, when the doors opened and Barton and Winter were both there.

“Out. Help us carry some things in,” Barton said. He glanced at Steve and smirked. Steve tried, and failed, not to look at Bucky and see what he was thinking. As if he could sense that even in Steve’s head, he’d failed to call him Winter, Winter was glaring at him as he shoved a duffle into Steve’s arms.

Taking it eagerly, using it to hide the hard on he had – even if that was already a lost cause - Steve followed Barton into the warehouse. The door of the van slammed and Winter came along behind him. Barton and Nat dropped their own bags as Nat prowled around the space. Steve looked around as well.

From the outside, definitely a warehouse, but the inside was set up with a large office that you had to get through to reach the rest. He didn’t know what was on the other side of the far door, but there were tables and chairs and a fridge here, even a cot at the back.

How were they going to sleep four of them in here if they weren’t leaving till the next morning?

Barton had already moved to a counter on the long wall facing the outside and started a pot of coffee, and as Steve set down the duffle Winter had shoved onto him, Nat claimed the single cot, pulling out her weapons and sorting through them, checking them over. Barton watched her approvingly, Winter pulling a chair out silently and starting the same at one of the tables.

Steve was left with nothing to do. His own weapons were his body and a shield, and he’d lost the latter and his body had healed.

Still, maybe that was the answer. He had all that restless energy, all that… itch under his skin that needed dealing with. Finding himself a free space, he started stretching, ignoring the rest of the room, the scent of coffee slowly permeating the air. A few more rustles, some beeping that Steve had come to associate with a microwave, and other scents joined the first.

“If you wanna eat, eat,” Barton said. “Plenty of frozen shit in the fridge.”

“So, is this a safehouse?” Steve finally dropped his stretching to ask the question.

Barton shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters! If this is a HYDRA safehouse, then exactly how  _ safe  _ can it really be?” Steve pointed out, wiping sweat off his face with his shirt as he joined Barton at the counter. He noted that Winter and Nat were both standing by the cot, the two of them moving around each other with a familiarity Steve didn’t understand.

Did they know each other? Outside of the incidents in DC? Steve wasn’t sure. He made himself a mug of coffee, eyeing them warily as he considered the offerings the fridge might hold, the danger they could all be in right now -

“We on the same side now, Natalia?” Winter said. He’d stepped in close and Steve stared, unable to tear his eyes away from them as Winter loomed over her. Winter practically dwarfed her but Nat didn’t back up a single step. Clint lounged on the wall beside Steve, one arm crossed over his stomach, the other clutching a mug of piping hot coffee, but otherwise completely unconcerned.

“So you  _ do  _ remember,” she said. Remember what? Steve wondered.

“Some of it’s come back to me.” Winter touched her hair, slid his fingers through the strands before letting them drop. Nat, apparently, found that encouraging as she stepped closer, laying a hand on his arm, the metal one. Winter’s gazed dropped to stare at it.

“DC didn’t have to happen,” Nat said. “We could have been on the same side from the start, stop HYDRA before Insight launched. You could have defected, like me. I got away; you could have too. We could have helped you.”

“No, Natalia, you  _ really  _ didn’t.”

Nat’s indrawn breath of dismay caught Steve’ attention but he didn’t see what she was seeing.

“What? I don’t get it,” Steve complained. Natasha turned, just her head, glaring at him, but her eyes were haunted.

“The Red Room  _ raised  _ me,” Natasha said, like that cleared up  _ anything  _ for Steve. He’d never once heard her talk about the Red Room. “Yasha –  _ fine, Winter –  _ “ she changed the name as soon as he growled at her, rolling her eyes at him – how she dared, Steve didn’t know - but she still looked at him defiantly when she faced Winter again, even with the hopelessness Steve had caught, seared in her eyes. “Winter trained me. We were assassins, made for someone else’s use. Never knew who, didn’t need to know. We just followed orders. But I got out… or I thought I had.”

“They  _ never _ let you go, Natalia. Hawks’ been one of _ their _ soldiers since I can remember.  _ He _ ‘brought’ you in.  _ He _ was your partner.” Winter reached out for her once more, pushing her red hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear in the most gentle gesture Steve had seen him make  _ yet.  _ “All your vaunted freedom was an illusion, Widow. “

“I’ve been working for HYDRA under the guise of SHIELD the whole time,” her voice cracked.

“Don’t get maudlin about it,” Barton said lazily. “ _ Everyone  _ has. Just some people knew and some people didn’t.”

Steve glared at Winter and Barton as Nat stared straight ahead, into nothing, into Winter’s chest. Her eyes were glazed over as things clicked over in her head, rearranging themselves. “That was unnecessarily cruel.”

Winter shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

“Now we make our  _ own  _ truths,” Barton said, pushing away from the wall and stalking towards Winter and Natasha. Steve jerked in surprise, following after to… to do what, he didn’t know. Protect her? Nat could protect herself – but did she want to? He didn’t know anymore. For the first time in his life, Steve couldn’t see the right path.

Didn’t think he’d been on it for a while either.

“Without the chairs, they can’t control us. Without the scientists, they can’t make more. There are others out there now, tearing HYDRA down, now that HYDRA is no longer in the shadows.  _ Now  _ we have a chance of freedom.  _ Real _ freedom,” Winter said softly.

“We can become HYDRA’s boogeymen. The ghosts they helped create,” Barton said, his smile turning wicked. “It’s time they learned to fear  _ us _ , don’t you think, little spider?”

Steve held his breath, uncertain what he was hoping for, as he watched Nat’s head rise, her eyes glittered, her mouth curving into her own cruel, mirthless smile.

“You know, I think you’re right,” she said softly. “Let’s take the power from them and give it back to ourselves.”


	4. Names

When it was time to sleep, Winter kept watch and Clint took the cot with Nat. It was a surprisingly sturdy cot, Steve discovered, judging from the noises coming from it.

Steve shifted uncomfortably on the too short couch he’d overlooked on his first glance through the place. Easy to overlook when it was covered in boxes of paperwork, he supposed. Winter, from his place by the window, didn’t budge an inch, seemingly unbothered by what was going on in the back of the room, though Steve was certain Winter could hear every moan, every creak of the cot, every bit of flesh on flesh –

Swallowing, Steve rolled over, painfully hard for the second time that day.

Basically, Winter had exceptional hearing, just like Steve. He  _ had _ to be hearing what his lover was doing, but if he was jealous, it wasn’t showing on his face.

If there was anything that could drive in the fact that Winter wasn’t Bucky, it was that. Bucky had been the most jealous little shit Steve had ever known and Steve had excelled in riling him up, loved how Bucky was with him after, how Bucky would punish Steve for it.

It had felt glorious, knowing Bucky wanted  _ him  _ that much. It was as much a test as anything else. What they had was forbidden, and even if it weren’t –

Who wanted anything to do with poor, skinny, sick Rogers? There were always better fish in the sea and Steve had lived in constant fear that Bucky would finally see that, would finally get sick of Steve and leave his stubborn ass.

Every time Bucky got jealous was reassurance that he still wanted Steve. It was a fucking  _ relief _ whenever Bucky punished him for leading others on when Steve belonged to  _ him. _

Yet here he sat, unmoving, while Barton and Nat fucked in the same  _ room  _ as them.

In the quiet of the room, Steve’s ears were assaulted by the heavy breathing, by slick wet sounds, of sharp, gasping breaths. Pulling a pillow over his head did nothing to shut it out or stop his dick from twitching.

There was no way he was getting any sleep until  _ they  _ were, and even then… Steve clenched his hands on the pillow, grinding it down into his face to keep from reaching into his pants and stroking himself off.

The pillow was yanked from his grip.

“You tryin’ to smother yourself?” Winter smirked down at him, eyes all too knowing as they tracked along Steve’s body. Steve flushed, at once horrified and turned on by the look. This wasn’t Bucky, it was Winter, but if Winter wanted to fuck Steve, Steve  _ knew  _ he’d be helpless to say no.

But he knew putting himself voluntarily into Winters hands was dangerous. He wasn’t the same man Steve had once known. In addition to that, Winter was an assassin, a brainwashed one that had – until recently – had orders to kill Steve, and it would be idiotic of Steve to make himself that vulnerable to an assassin.

He wanted it though.

_ Fuck _ , did Steve want it.

He glared at Winter halfheartedly, every sound amplified – no, that wasn’t it. Uncaring of their audience, Nat and Barton were getting  _ louder. _

Steve almost whimpered.

Winter dropped into a chair close to Steve, staring at the back of the room, eyes no doubt penetrating the darkness easily. There was still no jealousy on his countenance. Either he was very good at hiding it or he just wasn’t feeling it.

Staring up at the ceiling, Steve tried his  _ damndest  _ not to follow Winter’s gaze. It was so fucking hard. In his own mind, he could still see every inch of Nat laid out beneath him as he worshiped her with burning lips. He could recall every contour, the way she moved when she rode him to  _ her  _ ecstasy.

Less vivid, but no less captivating, he could picture Barton as he pounded her into the cot, the way he’d done Winter, more than once, the flex of his shoulder muscles, the thick line of his cock –

_ Oh fucking fuck _ … this was not helping.

“You’re not jealous of them?” he finally asked, soft as possible. He didn’t know how good Barton’s hearing was. Nat’s was scary good but not as good as Steve’s.

“Why?” Winter asked, evenly.

Steve turned his head from the ceiling to stare at Winter’s profile in disbelief. “I mean… you and Barton… you’ve been fucking like bunnies the whole time I’ve been with you. But now he’s with Nat.”

Winter shrugged. “Let’s just say, you and Hawk are the only ones who  _ haven’t  _ yet.”

Head fritzing out, Steve ran that through his head a few times. Okay, yeah, him and Bucky had been together, way back when. Him and Nat were –  _ had been _ – a thing now. He’d suspected from Nat’s behavior that she’d been trying to move on from Barton, since New York happened. And of course, Steve had seen, up close and personal, that Barton and Winter  _ also  _ had a thing.

But he was now implying that Nat had been with Winter too. When? In the Red Room? Steve still wasn’t entirely sure what the Red Room was, but they definitely had sounded like the bad guys. And seeing as HYDRA had brainwashed their assets…

“Your… masters let you have… relations like this?” Steve prodded, incredulously.

“No, they didn’t,” Winter said coldly. “We took what pleasures we could for ourselves to make our lives bearable. And sometimes, when we weren’t careful enough, we were punished for it.”

Now Steve could see it, a muscle ticking in Winter’s jaw as he still stared straight ahead, the hands clenching on his thighs, one white knuckled, the other whirring. Throughout their quiet conversation, Barton and Nat had kept going, Steve unable to completely ignore everything he heard, his imagination running wild –

When Nat made that one sound, the sound she only made when she was about to come – Steve managed not to whine but couldn’t stop the harsh, indrawn breath, the lightheaded feeling in his head as his cock thickened and throbbed with need it couldn’t relieve.

Steve may have been with Bucky before and Nat recently, and he might be all sorts of messed up, but voyeurism had never been his thing, despite a very brief foray, before Buck. His cheeks turned scarlet at the thought of getting off with Barton in the room when he didn’t even  _ know  _ Barton.

And yet, his dick hadn’t gotten with the program, eagerly straining his pants and seeking attention.

Closing his eyes, Steve took in a breath, let it out slowly, then in again. It was working, his racing heartbeat slowing down, and then a heavy hand fell on his cock and stroked up through his pants and Steven whined and arched into the touch, his attempt at calm completely shattering under Winter’s touch.

His breath came raggedly, Nat cried out and Barton grunted and Steve whimpered, hips pushing up and up and up into Winter’s hand, unable to stop now that he had the friction he needed.

He closed his eyes, pretending Winter was Bucky again, pretending that all was right in a world that hadn’t been right since waking up a couple years ago, since he’d gone down in the ice, since the serum…

Since Bucky’d been sent off to war and their lives had changed so drastically that Steve didn’t think his own mother would recognize him anymore, and he didn’t mean just because of the serum.

Bucky’s hand felt familiar and not at the same time, the squeeze just a little too much, the stroke of his hand just a little slower than Steve remembered.

Steve remembered Bucky, afraid to hurt Steve. Steve remembered having to get off fast, afraid of being discovered.

The only times they had slow and uninterrupted had been the time they’d shared an apartment – all too fucking briefly before that fucking war had ruined  _ everything _ – and even then, they hadn’t been able to let loose they way they’d wanted to, with paper thin walls and nosey neighbors.

This touch was _ nothing _ like the Bucky Steve remembered, but it seared him, memories tumbling through him – fuck, this wasn’t enough. Steve wanted Bucky’s hand to touch him, flesh to flesh. Panting, Steve reached down, fumbling at his pants.

“Buck – Bucky, please – “ Steve gasped.

A stinging slap hit his cheek, leaving his cock, startling Steve into a groan as he humped the empty air.

“What did I tell you?” Winter growled.

Steve’s eyes popped open as he shuddered, Winter’s voice, so like and unlike; the accent and cadence he was used to was gone, the voice rougher in general than he was used to and it  _ did  _ things to him.

He should be ashamed but he wasn’t.

“Buck – “

Winter jerked Steve’s head back by the hair, much like Barton had the other day and Steve gasped. He could feel his thoughts glazing over at the pinch of pain, his hips still working, still moving desperately. Fuck, he hadn’t felt this desperate in a while – Nat usually kept him sated enough to keep going – but it had been over a fucking week and they’d been teasing him, putting everything he couldn’t have on display.

“I’m. Not. Bucky,” Winter growled, forcing Steve’s head into an arch before punctuating the words with another three slaps. God, he was so hard, so needy. He needed… he needed…

Steve’s hands fumbled at his pants again, managing to get the snap and had just started on the zipper when a heavy weight settled across his legs and his hands were pulled away from his throbbing cock, leaving it still trapped in his pants.

His eyes flew open – again - as a sound of denial ripped through him. Bucky still held his head back but he eased it down enough for Steve to see –

Barton, absolutely fucking naked Barton, was straddling his legs, hands sliding up Steve’s thighs to hook in the waistband of his pants – and then the fucker  _ stopped,  _ grinning down at Steve, the twist of his lips a little harsh.

His hands were held above his head by Nat, the skin of his wrists starting to burn and bubble a little from her touch.

Barton’s eyes raked up and down Steve’s heaving body, then looked over at Winter. “God, he’s desperate for it. What are you gonna do about it?”

Winter was glaring down at Steve and then something entered his eyes that made Steve’s breath catch.

“Please, B – Winter,” Steve begged, twisting his hands in Nat’s grip, bucking up against Barton.

“Nothing,” Winter said, a shadow of the grin Bucky would give him when they played these games crossed Winter’s face, only it was harder, harsher, picking Steve apart more than he could remember ever having been and he whimpered at the look, at the realization that he  _ wasn’t  _ getting what he wanted – and from the way Barton and Nat were acting, Steve was sure they were going to take their cue from Winter.

“I’m not gonna do a damn thing,” Winter said slowly, emphasizing each word. Steve’s head was still pulled back in that tight grip, the whirring of the arm a constant hum in Steve’s ears. “He wants his release, wants me, too much but he can’t even remember my fucking name. I’m not gonna reward him for that. He wants a reward from me, he can wait till we do what we came here for.”

Barton chuckled gleefully. “Oh yeah, baby, that’s what I’m talkin’ about.” He swung his leg up and off Steve, tumbling into Winters lap as Winter gave Steve one last tug then let go. Their lips met in a hot, messy kiss that Steve had all too good a vantage point for and he wriggled, tugging at his hands.

Natasha held them in her surprisingly strong grip – well, not so surprising any more, not with how many times they’d played and gotten off together – and his eyes rolled at the burn circling his wrists.

Leaning down over his head, Nat’s hair brushing over his face and leaving red lines crisscrossing his skin wherever they fell, she smiled down at him. He thought she might take a little pity on him but then she spoke.

“I’m letting you go, but you don’t get to touch yourself, Steve. Winter’s right. That would be a reward, and I don’t think you deserve one just now. Names are important things, Steve, especially to us, to  _ them _ , who’ve had our identities stripped away, names taken and ones we never asked for given to us. So if one of us tells you something, you need to listen.” She trailed her lips along his cheek, down his jaw as she spoke, just breathing but never touching, teasing him with her hot breath.

“Winter gave you his name. He’s chosen who he wants to be in this moment and it doesn’t do to disrespect one of us that way.” The smile widened. “And I know you can be a good boy when there’s a reward on the line, so be good, and we’ll give you what you need. Can you promise to be good?”

Steve nodded jerkily, unable to speak. She twisted his wrists slightly in her grip, spreading the burn. “Steve…” she prodded.

“Y-yes. I’ll be good,” he gasped out. A thought occurred to him, a wild thought but then… this whole thing was beyond the normal. “Does… does that mean… all of you?”

“Do you  _ want _ it to be all of us?” she asked with a hum.

God help him, Steve thought, but he did. What did that make him? Greedy? Fucked in the head? He remembered a long ago time when the concept hadn’t seemed so foreign, though it was brief – until Bucky had found him and had made it clear that he was and would be the only one for Steve.

But… that time was gone,  _ Bucky  _ was gone. And Winter didn’t seem to give a damn.

She stared at him, waiting, but there was no judgement on her face even as it felt like her eyes were boring into his soul, seeing his every single, sordid, want and desire.

He licked his lips.

He took a breath.

Steve’s eyes flicked over to Barton, now rocking down on Winter’s lap, still unashamedly buck ass naked, Winter still fully dressed but for their cocks held in his – metal – hand, Barton’s hands tangled in Winters hair as they kissed roughly, needily.

“Yes,” he said softly.


	5. Farmhouse

Needless to say, Steve hadn’t slept too well. Aside from the too small couch and the throbbing hardon, the anticipation of the next day was overwhelming. With both a fight  _ and  _ sex on the next day’s menu, with Winter instinctually upping the game Steve and Bucky had used to play and adding another level to everything they’d  _ ever  _ done…

Steve wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through the day. But being punished like Steve craved more often these days, coupled with the promise of getting rewards for good behavior –

Dammit, but Steve was gonna be on his best behavior, no matter how hard it was to sleep with his cock throbbing between his legs all night, demanding the attention Steve refused it.

They loaded up the van early, Barton driving once more. They left the city, and soon enough, they were in farm country, just as Barton had predicted.

He stopped the van far from anything Steve could see and the four of them got out, stretching their legs and arming up. Barton handed Steve a gun and Steve frowned as he took it. He missed his shield.

Then Winter thrust something at Steve. Something round and –

Steve stared at the shield dumbfoundedly for a good, long moment before finally taking it. It was scarred up a little – not the metal, just the paintjob, really – but the familiar weight in his hands settled something inside him.

Steve wanted to ask a million things – Why had Winter kept it? (Why had Winter kept  _ him?) _ Why was he giving it to Steve now? Why hadn’t he mentioned it earlier?

Why wouldn’t Winter look him in the face while he handed it off?

The questions would have to wait. They had a mission.

It felt good to have a mission again.

Steve just hoped he wouldn’t screw this one up.

The four of them started walking, Winter taking point, Barton trailing behind. Steve was the loudest of the four of them, though he was quieter than a normal civilian would have been. Compared to the assassins he was accompanying, however, as they snuck up on the very people that had  _ made  _ them, that wasn’t very reassuring.

Even sneaking, though, it didn’t take long to reach their destination. Steve eyed it dubiously before looking around further. It didn’t  _ look  _ like a HYDRA base. But then again, given that they’d stayed underground for 70  _ years _ , that was probably the point.

At least HYDRA, in their infinite wisdom, hadn’t cleared the tree line completely from around the innocuous looking farmhouse, giving the four of them plenty of coverage to get fairly close up before they’d need to sprint to cover the ground.

Winter held out his arm, calling them to stop silently. Barton moved forward, bow up and ready and circled the grounds, sticking to the tree line. He slipped between the trees effortlessly, fluidly, silently. Even watching Barton move, even knowing  _ exactly  _ where he was, Steve lost sight of him before Barton had gone more than 50 feet.

It took Barton almost 10 minutes to return, hands moving, talking silently to Winter. Winter nodded, looked back at Nat and Steve and pointed at the house, holding up 3 fingers. The fingers counted down and when he closed his fist, he broke cover. Steve, Nat and Barton keeping pace with him easily, eyes darting about as they made their way to the rundown farmhouse.

They made it easily, no interruptions, and they pressed themselves against the walls, giving a second to catch breaths and gain their bearings. Winter immediately moved towards the back of the building with Nat, Barton jerked his head at Steve and they went towards the front, covering both exits.

They stepped lightly over the porch steps and to the door and Barton gestured his bow to the door. Steve shifted to the side, then eased it open slowly. It didn’t even squeak, giving lie to the apparent abandonment of the house.

Together, they moved, falling into a united rhythm more easily than Steve believed  _ possible _ as they cleared rooms, finding only one guy in the kitchen, fixing food.

Barton had him on the floor before Steve could make a move.

They kept going, meeting with Natasha and Winter near the center of the house, at the last door.

“Basement?” Steve mouthed. He got a sharp nod and Steve’s alertness pumped higher. One entry point, probably narrow, and if they were smart and had cameras or any sort of alarms, HYDRA would be waiting for them. It could very  _ easily  _ turn into a kill box, like what Rumlow had pulled on Steve in the elevator only, fuck, two weeks ago now?

Maybe. Steve had kind of lost track.

But then Winter pulled something from inside his coat and Barton grinned, the smile mad and cruel and eager.

Nat yanked the door open as they stood on either side of it, and gunfire erupted, just as Steve had feared. Winter waited, and waited – for what, Steve had no idea, just throw the damn thing already! – then reached his metal arm over the gap of the door and lobbed the item (probably a grenade of some sort, unless Steve missed his guess) through it, Nat slamming the door shut again as a concussion rocked through the house.

The door blew off it’s hinges, splintering in half when it hit the wall opposite, and then they were moving, leaping down into the hole left by the grenade and landing in the ruin of the stairs and the bodies of HYDRA agents felled by the blast.

Winter and Barton moved forward, obviously all too familiar with the layout of the place as they moved, unerringly, to targets of their choosing. Nat stopped at each body, making sure none of them were alive and for just a second, Steve felt his stomach churn at the ruthlessness of that act.

Then again, they were what they had been made, and those had been doing the making were the ones dying now.

Steve decided he wouldn’t feel conflicted over their deaths again.

These people had  _ chosen  _ HYDRA. Had chosen murder and torture and chaos. They had taken away the freedom of people.

They had taken away Bucky and left Winter in his place. They had taken away whatever Barton or Nat might have been.

They’d had their identities and choices taken away from them. It hadn’t been enough to recruit like minded people. HYDRA had taken it one step further, like they always did, taking people against their will and molding them into something they weren’t.

HYDRA had planted the seeds of their own destruction. They were now reaping what they had sowed.

As Winter and Barton had predicted, fighting here was minimal. Nobody had expected to be attacked at a remote,  _ secret  _ facility, and it showed. Barton had picked off the watchers and most of the guard had been on the staircase.

That proved to be their undoing.

What was left were scientists, and by the time Steve blinked, they were all lying in pools of their own blood, a grim satisfaction lining the faces of the other three.

But Barton and Winter weren’t done.

They moved with purpose, striding forward to the other end of the room and ripping a heavy metal door off its hinges and tossing it aside. Through the doorway, Steve saw a chair, all hard metal with tubes, wires and contraptions, hooked to a counter full of equipment. Or maybe the counter  _ was  _ the equipment. Steve thought it was some sort of rudimentary computer, or, no, it was a lot like the instruments Howard had used during Erskine’s experiment.

Winter and Barton had frozen, had come to a stop before the chair. Winter’s metal hand was clenching again and again, the whir too loud in the dense silence of the room. Beside him, Barton shook, a faint tremble rippling through Barton’s body, small but there. Steve almost thought he was imagining it as he and Natasha filed in behind them.

Whatever was running through them in that moment, Steve didn’t know. Their faces were cold and blank, Barton was pale. Steve recalled, then, that he’d suffered through the chair most often, that he probably had more  _ memories  _ of the chair than Winter for the simple fact that Barton’s memories kept coming back of their own accord over time while Winter’s were locked away until triggered.

A sudden rage filled their faces and Winter exploded into motion, ripping at the chair with focused abandon, fury - so potent Steve almost melted just being in the periphery of it - written in every line of his body.

Barton’s breath was ragged, but was no less furious, no less capable, when he joined Winter in their purposeful destruction of the chair, of the thing that had unmade them.

Steve knew he’d never be able to completely understand what they went through, but their rage was contagious. All his fruitless efforts, everything that had been taken from him – a lot of it could be traced back to the damn chair. To the chair’s connection with the very power he’d worked so hard to take down and he knew he would never rest until he could bring Winter and Barton and even Nat some measure of peace – though, as far as Steve knew, she had never endured the chair, her tortures different than theirs but she had suffered just the same.

Therefore, she deserved the same consideration.

While Winter and Barton violently dismantled the device that had ripped them apart, and while Nat watched the door, Steve turned to the banks of controls, wound up and punched his fist through the console, then stabbing into it with the shield. He pounded the metal with steady rhythm, each punch harder than the last, slamming the shield down again and again, as he did his level best to turn it into useless slag.

It took Nat’s delicate looking fingers on the inside of his elbow to pull him back from the mess he’d made, breathing hard. Steve looked around the room.

Nat clicked her tongue, surveying the damage with clear eyed approval. “That’s one mad scientist contraption that will never function again. C’mon, boys. It’s done. You did it. Let’s get out of here before reinforcements come and we’re trapped down here.”

A feral light entered Barton’s eyes at the idea of being trapped and he snarled. “I will  _ never  _ be trapped again.”

Nat stepped up to him and cuffed him lightly. “Then get your ass moving, yastreb.”

Goaded, Barton stalked out of the room, Winter treading close on his heels, much closer than they had on their way in, closer than was good. Natasha bit her lip and looked at Steve and an understanding seemed to come between them. For all that she’d fallen right into Winter and Barton’s ways, hadn’t flinched or even doubted what they were doing, worked so flawlessly with all of them that it left Steve  _ speechless,  _ there was a slightly saner light to her eyes then the others, and concern now filled them.

Barton and Winter were being driven by the pain of their past, had been driven possibly mad by that same pain. And who could blame them? The more Steve learned, the more his heart hurt for them, and for Nat. They had relied on each other so long that opening up to Nat and Steve might be hard for them, and they might not do it until it was too late.

It would be up to Nat and Steve to keep an eye on them and keep them whole.

Steve found that ironic, because he wasn’t sure he and Natasha were whole or even sane themselves.

How could he be a grounding influence, a moral center, when Steve wasn’t so sure anymore that Winter and Barton and Nat didn’t have a  _ right _ to payback what they had been given? When Steve craved for them to hurt him for his own failures?

There was something wrong with them, yes, but there was something wrong with him too.

With a shake of his head, Steve followed after them, stopping only to retrieve his shield from the smoking wreck he’d made, more of the paint scraped off.

They moved quickly through the underground rooms, Nat pausing to slap charges to the walls as they went. Winter made the leap over the rubble with ease, clearing it and landing on the upper level. Steve looked at Nat and she nodded. He set his feet and tossed her into the air with his shield, Winter already clearing out of the way before she landed. Steve looked back at Barton.

“Go, I got this,” Barton said, his quiver spinning on his back before he pulled a new arrow. “Get up there and get out of my way.”

Steve nodded, took a running leap and landed on the upper floor and ducked to the side just as Barton shot his arrow. It hit the wall above where Steve had been standing, and he followed the rope that was attached to it, finding Barton climbing it swiftly. Still, Steve couldn’t stand idly by. He grabbed the rope and pulled, bringing Barton up faster.

Barton grunted his thanks and yanked the arrow out of the wall, quickly winding the rope around it before shoving it into his belt. “Waste not, want not,” he said with a grin.

They reached the doors and edged a careful look out the windows. Steve saw nothing and evidently, nobody else did either. They jogged out of the farm house together, making for the trees post haste, Nat fiddling with something on her belt.

The farmhouse exploded behind them just as they reached cover.

“Now  _ no  _ one will be able to use anything from what’s left,” she said.

Barton stared at her and his eyes  _ shone _ . He swallowed. “Right. Let’s get out of here.”


	6. Dwelling

Despite their urgency to get out of there, as soon as they reached the van, Winter slammed Barton against the side of it. Barton looked down at Winter with a breathless smirk that lasted mere seconds before his eyes closed and he groaned into the brutal kiss Winter gave him, pinning him down -

Like Bucky used to do to Steve.

Fuck, Bucky had shared Steve with other fellas - not often, always with rules, Bucky had been so fucking jealous but he'd liked the power play - but it had never been the other way around, had never seen  _ Bucky  _ with anyone else (the tame little dates with dames didn’t count, cover for what the two of them  _ really _ got up to) and Steve was....

Steve was both jealous and aroused. Winter pushed closer to Barton and Barton's hands had moved - grabbing Winter and pulling frantically. Steve's breath caught and he imagined himself pinned against the van, and in his mind’s eye... he couldn't decide between Barton and Winter.

He stood frozen, watching the ill-timed display until Nat stalked over, smacked them both over the head.

"This is not the time, boys," she growled.

Winter reluctantly drew away, surged forward one last time and bit at Barton's ear. There was a whisper of sound that Steve didn't catch but that damn smirk was on Barton's face again. "Is that a promise, baby?" he asked.

They piled back into the van, Clint still grinning madly and Steve wishing he had heard whatever Bucky had said.

Barton almost didn’t wait for them to settle before he started up the van and they hightailed it out of there, Steve watching Barton carefully as he drove. The tremors had left but he was still pale as hell, despite the flush Winter had put on his face. The further and further they drove, however, the less hunched his shoulders were, a triumphant smirk sliding onto his face.

“Two down, seven to go,” he crowed. Winter flinched.

“That’s seven too many,” Winter muttered. “It’s too early to celebrate, Hawk.”

“Aww, baby,” Barton said, that smirk shifting into something softer, eyes still bright with the unshed emotions of earlier. “Don’t be like that. Gotta take our victories while we can.”

Nat leaned forward, much like she had the day before. “Where we headed now, boys?”

“Not Detroit,” Winter grunted. Barton hummed agreement.

“We’ll drive a few hours, then hole up for the day. Decide which target to go after next,” Barton explained. “I’m thinkin’, Canada.”

“Vancouver?” Winter’s voice betrayed surprise but his eyes turned inward. Whatever reasoning Barton had, Winter obviously found it agreeable because after a long moment he grunted, giving Barton a small incline of his head.

“That’ll be quite the trip,” Nat said.

“It’ll lull them into a false sense of security,” Barton grinned. “They’ll probably expect us to hit the last US site, not switch countries till we have to. They won’t have readied this one. The more of them we can hit while they’re understaffed, the better for us.”

Steve frowned. “But you’re practically unstoppable. If you stack the deck too far in your favor  _ now, _ won’t the last one be where they pool  _ everything  _ they have left to throw at you? And wind up with more to do that with?”

“It also means we won’t be worn down from continuous fights,” Barton pointed out. “We’ve got a little extra going for us, but we’re still human.”

He shot his eyes up into the rearview mirror and his smile twisted into something painful. It hurt to look at. “Barely.”

Winter reached across the seats, the flash of sun glinting off the metal of his arm Steve’s only indication of the action as Widow continued to block his view. But seconds later, Barton’s face relaxed and the van descended into silence.

Nat stayed where she was, watching the road, one hand eventually drifting into Winter’s hair, carding through it in an absentminded way that showed it was a normal, casual touch between them.

Steve still couldn’t believe his eyes. Just over a week ago, Winter had tried to kill them both on the bridge, but Nat seemed to have completely forgotten, or at least forgiven. Whatever history lay between them, it meant a lot to them.

And yeah, Steve was jealous.

Because his history with Winter didn’t seem worth a damn.

He wanted his Bucky back, or at least, for Winter to remember who he’d been and accept the same sort of casualness from Steve. He wanted the collar off his throat, to be trusted by the people he’d once chosen to trust.

Was still choosing to trust, though he barely knew Barton.

But Widow and Winter did.

Steve fidgeted in his seat, the silence, the inactivity, getting to him. He’d been keyed up for a while now, even worse last night after he’d been specifically denied his release, and the fight hadn’t chewed up enough of that pent-up energy.

And he had no idea when they would be stopping next. Hours was all Barton had said. They were right though, they needed to put distance between them and the site. That didn’t mean Steve had to like it.

Nat leaned back at last, leaving Steve’s forward view unobstructed.

An aching void had opened in him, and he shivered at the loneliness. It should have been no different or worse than it had been before he knew Winter was still alive. Then when he woke up in a new century with no one. Yet it was, watching them together, despite the hint of a promise last night… it didn’t mean anything to them.  _ Steve  _ didn’t mean anything to them. He’d been a stranger to Barton, a single battle together under their belts. He’d been tentative friends and a last resort for Nat and Bucky was gone – but they clearly cared for  _ each other. _

He crossed his hands over his chest and looked out the window. From the corner of his eye, he caught movement, Nat looking at him thoughtfully.

“I believe the good captain is feeling a little neglected,” she said with a hum. “Shouldn’t we give him a reward for being so good last night, and for his help today?”

Winter shrugged and waved a hand in a go ahead gesture without even looking back. “Do whatever you want,” he said.

Steve’s stomach dropped.

Winter must still be mad about last night, or – more likely, proving Steve’s thoughts - he really didn’t care, didn’t want Steve, when Steve would give his dying breath to be with Winter.

Nat grinned and she edged closer to Steve in a catlike glide, purring into his ear. “What do you want, cap?”

The rejection from Winter had killed any desire Steve might have had for something else, something more, more effectively than just about anything ever.

“Nothing,” Steve growled, jerking away from Nat and pointedly looking away. Steve didn’t need pity. He wanted to be punished, or needed – preferably both.

He knew it was too much to ask for love. It was clear that there was nothing left of Bucky that remembered loving Steve.

It was also clear that Winter  _ could  _ love, or at least, care, in his own ways.

Winter cared for Barton, for Nat.

Just not Steve.

It didn’t change anything. Steve wouldn’t be anywhere else just now than right here, but it hurt like hell.

The van was too silent as Steve watched the landscape sliding by. He wondered what he could have been doing to pass the time if he’d taken Nat up on her offer – but no, the moment had passed and he was still too upset about Winter to do anything.

Left to his own devices, Steve thought about the past.

Bucky had never rejected Steve before. He’d left him for war, but that hadn’t been Bucky’s choice. That wasn’t the same.

And even over there, Bucky never said no to Steve, though it was usually fast and dirty, clothes still on, a hand or a mouth, the Howling Commandos looking the other way when Bucky and Steve sat a little too close, let their touches linger.

If there had been one thing Steve had been grateful for in the war, it was that acceptance had been easier to come by, strangely enough.

After all, what good did it do anyone to judge your fellows for loving where they could, when you or any of them could be dead the next day?

War was lonely.

When you had no one to share your bedroll with, it was lonelier still.

God, his thoughts were grim. Thankfully, Barton clicked the radio on, and Steve settled in for a good distraction. Then the music ended and the news reports started.

_ “The new group of heroes that appeared earlier this week, now calling themselves the Avengers and led by Tony Stark, are running all over the world, hunting down HYDRA and putting out fires. Highways are slowly being cleared, but the work is slow. We recommend staying close to home as much as you are able. Worldwide mass memorial services are in discussion at what remains of the UN. Remember to use the following hotline to report missing friends, neighbors and family members – “ _

“Turn it off,” Steve bit out. He didn’t need any more reminders of his failures. Fury had tried to pull a team together before, had called it the Avengers. And it hadn’t worked.

Clearly the idea had stuck in Stark’s head, since Steve didn’t think Fury had a hand at all in the new team. Being dead or almost dead could make it a little difficult to organize things.

Steve actually had no idea if Fury was even still alive.

_ “ – still no sign of Captain America. We are forced to conclude that he was lost in the devastation that rocked the world just last week –“ _

“Turn. It. Off,” Steve growled.

It was Winter who reached for the radio, the car falling silent again.

It was gonna be a long fucking drive.


	7. Putting on a Show

The safehouse they landed in that night was a step above and beyond what the last two had been. It was an open room, laid out much like a hotel with a little kitchenette and table in the entrance with a half dividing wall, then two queen beds with a nightstand between and a dresser with an older, heavy tv. Beyond that was a closet and the bathroom.

Clint parked the van, the four of them unloading whatever Winter tossed at them, Clint eyeing Winter hungrily. As soon as they touched down inside, Natasha dropped her bag on the closest surface.

“I’ll go out and get us food. You boys behave,” she said with a smirk. Steve made to follow and she laid a hand on his chest, pushing back firmly. He could have resisted, but he didn’t, he wasn’t sure why. “No. You stay here. You’re a little too high profile.”

Reluctantly, Steve turned back as the door shut behind her and stilled.

Barton and Winter were already locked at the lips, the hungry looks upgraded to pulling hands. Already keyed up and left hard and wanting the night previous, and then ignored when Winter knew damn well what he needed, how he got…

What he’d promised…

Steve felt abandoned.

Again.

With a lump in his throat, he edged around them towards the bathroom.

They didn’t notice.

He shut the door firmly and leaned back against it with a heavy sigh. What the hell had happened to his life? What the fuck was going on? How had he gotten here and where was he going next?

Pushing off the door, Steve turned the shower on, listening to it spit before it settled. He turned the heat up as high as it would go and hoped it would hold out, then stripped.

No, he knew what he was going to do. He was going to stay with them, just as he said. He was going to hunt down Hydra and those god damn chairs. He was going to hunt them down and break everything that had hurt Bucky and taken him away from Steve.

And if Bucky was never himself again, if Winter was happy with Barton, then Steve would just have to deal with that. Because he’d only ever wanted Bucky to be happy.

He’d just wished it had been with him.

Steve didn’t even think he’d mind sharing… as long as everyone was on board.

He stepped under the spray and had to duck so he wouldn’t his head on the showerhead. He let the water sluice over his skin for long moments, washing away the sweat from that morning’s efforts. Head bowed, Steve braced himself on the wall and tried to relax, letting the steam fill the room.

But his ears picked up the sounds from the other side of the wall all too easily, even over the pounding water, and his cock perked up along with it. Steve swallowed a groan. He tried to ignore it as he washed his hair, but his fingers tugged too hard and memories flooded him. He tried to ignore it as he found the soap and lathered his body, but his hands roamed and caressed and pinched.

He tried to ignore it when the moans got loud enough that he  _ didn’t  _ need super soldier to hear them, but instead his hand wrapped around his cock and he closed his eyes, head bowed once more, his other hand back on the wall as he bit his lip.

Seeing Winter had brought back so many memories. He thrust into the tight channel of his fist and his mind flashed back to that first time he’d fucked Bucky after Azzano, after Steve had changed.

Steve had almost pounded Bucky through the flimsy wall of the med supply shed, had sunk his cock – enhanced along with the rest of his body – into Bucky’s ass, while just outside the door, all the others that had been rescued from Azzano were being looked over.

The scene flooded Steve’s mind and he groaned, biting down on his lip as his hand sped up on his cock.

He’d thought he’d lost Bucky, had been frantic to check him over from head to toe himself, and Bucky had known Steve needed him. Had pulled Steve into that supply shed as soon as they’d had a free minute. They knew each other too well to pretend. And Bucky… Bucky had looked at him with a shadow in his eyes and Steve had wanted to chase the shadow away.

Neither of them had bothered to fully undress: Steve was still in his Captain America suit, those garish bright colors a giant ass target, only shifted enough to free his cock while Bucky’s clothes - still dirty from capture – were rucked up, his pants hanging off one ankle.

If Steve had had a camera – if he’d dared to  _ use  _ that camera – he’d have taken a picture. Even in his mind he could still see it, clear as day -

How for once, it was Steve in charge – not that they didn’t take turns, with that, with other things - pinning Bucky’s hands up above his head, Bucky’s legs wrapped around Steve’s waist. Bucky had been making the most delicious sounds, Steve remembered as he stroked his cock to the memories, and Steve had needed to shove a roll of gauze in Bucky’s mouth to keep him quiet while he whispered in Bucky’s ear.

It had been so raw, so desperate. The thick, harsh glide of his cock in Bucky’s tight ass – it had never felt like that before and Steve groaned trying to hold on long enough, panting into Bucky’s neck, mouthing gently when all he wanted to do was bite and suck.

No marks. Couldn’t leave marks, so he’d whispered words instead that would drive Bucky as crazy as Steve felt.

“Don’t come, Buck,” Steve said on a thrust, eyes fluttering shut. “Can’t let the others see you defile the uniform like that, let them know what we were doing in here.”

Bucky had clenched around Steve and he knew, he  _ knew  _ that Bucky  _ did  _ want the others to know, that they belonged to each other, despite how  _ dangerous  _ that was.

Steve wanted it too. Despite Peggy and what might have been blossoming between them, Bucky would always be his first love, the thing that mattered to Steve above all else. If he’d lost Bucky…

If Bucky had died…

His thrusts had turned desperate, Bucky whining in his ear, even through the gauze, as Steve chased his release, craved comfort and reassurance. Tears had leaked from Steve’s eyes and his chest had heaved. He’d pulled back enough to stare down at Bucky, their eyes, desperate and longing and hungry, meeting.

Steve had come so goddamned close to losing Bucky forever.

He’d dropped Bucky’s hands, which wrapped around Steve’s neck in an instant, gripping tight, as if afraid that if he let go, Steve would blow away which was laughable, since the  _ old  _ Steve might have, but the new one was too fucking solid for that. But Steve didn’t dwell. He’d just ripped the roll of gauze from Bucky’s mouth and slammed their lips together, swallowing Bucky’s moans the old-fashioned way, trying to pour as much of his need, his love, into the hard kiss as possible, his hands going down to grip Bucky’s ass and lift, grinding their hips together.

Steve wasn’t going to last and he didn’t –

And future Steve didn’t last any longer, as the memory of coming washed over him, of the memory of the hunger Bucky had had, of the love they’d shared, suffused him, his skin pink and raw from the heat, his hips thrusting erratically into the circle of his fingers and Steve came with a shudder and a bitten off cry.

He stood in the hot spray of the water, breathing hard, all the evidence washed away as quickly as it had painted the tiles.

If there were tears running down his face for what he’d lost, for what was  _ almost  _ in his grasp but wasn’t, no one could tell, even if they’d been in there to see.

He closed his eyes and just breathed, willing himself to calm down. The sound on the other side of the wall had stopped, and he figured it was safe to leave the bathroom, so he turned off the shower, pushed aside the curtain and grabbed a towel.

Steve frowned at the damn thing. The towels these places provided were always too fucking small.

It was as he stepped out and dried himself down that he realized – he didn’t have a change of clothes, just what he’d been wearing for the past fucking week after his uniform had been shredded, clothes which had been tossed at him the first time they’d let him up.

He didn’t even know what happened to his uniform, but if it hadn’t gone in the trash, Steve would be surprised.

With a sigh, he wrapped the towel around his waist and left the bathroom – and froze.

He tried not to make a sound, not a whimper, or anything to betray how he felt at the sight before him.

Or that he was there, not that they’d shown to care much for having an audience.

Because far from being finished, or maybe they’d started again, Winter was slowly fucking Barton on the bed, both of them kneeling, their muscles flexing in a tantalizing display of their power, Winter’s metal arm gripped around Barton’s middle, pulling them flush with each slow, dragging thrust.

Steve swallowed and beneath his towel, his cock stirred again.

A faded tattoo Steve hadn’t noticed before was wrapped around Barton’s thigh – a bow with arrows, of course, with stars spattered around it all and creeping up his ribs, Winter’s other hand coming down to curl around it suddenly, hiding a good chunk of it from view.

Barton’s back was arched beautifully, Winter was – was – Steve couldn’t see, with Winter’s hair falling in the way, hiding his face and draping over Barton’s shoulders and back, but he could imagine.

He could imagine harsh bites, soft licks, open mouthed panting – but that had been Bucky. Was there anything left of Bucky inside of Winter?

Steve was so mesmerized by the sight in front of him, by his longing to be  _ part  _ of that, that he never registered the door opening. His first clue that Natasha had returned was when she spoke.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they, my boys,” she said, in a deceptively soft tone, not quite a question. It punched him in the gut and Steve’s breath hitched.

He was being left out. Again.

Her fingers scraped up along his arm, red lines trailing in their wake. “Oh, Steve, you’re one of my boys too.” She pulled him along to the other bed. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you too.”

Steve ripped away from her, her hands leaving a scorching trail along his skin. He… he couldn’t do this. Her punishment, he’d accept, crave, even. The three of them, together, either loving him or using him, he’d accept. But being rejected, being ignored by Barton and Winter  _ – especially _ Winter – and given a pity fuck by Nat?

He couldn’t deal with it. Couldn’t take it.

“What the  _ fuck _ is wrong with you, Rogers?” Nat asked, glaring at him. “That’s twice today you’ve pushed me off. You’ve never done that before. What, am I not  _ good  _ enough for you now? Now that you’ve found your old war buddy again?”

She stalked closer to him, poking him in the chest with her finger, leaving a sizzling dot with each poke, while out of the corner of his eyes, the gentle movement and the soft sounds of Bucky and Clint fucking were a counterpoint to the harshness Steve felt swallowed by.

Steve drew himself up and glared, brushing her off his skin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stalked around the wall to the kitchenette, eyes falling on the stack of pizza boxes on the table. He tried to ignore the sounds from the other side of the room, tried not to let his gaze fall on the dividing wall –

“You’re jealous,” she said softly.

His stomach flipped. “Not… exactly.” He choked out, dropping into one of the chairs.

“Then what’s got your panties in a twist?” she looked down at the flimsy towel covering his waist with a smirk – “ so to speak.”

Steve squirmed and his hand reached up to the collar, tracing the edges of it. He looked away from her, feeling small. “None of you need me. I’m just… muscle.” He laughed bitterly. “It’s all I’m really good for these days.”

“Oh Rogers, you martyr,” Nat said with a sigh. She climbed into his lap and settled there, tapping her head to his, her long hair falling over his bare shoulders and chest. “They wouldn’t keep you around unless they wanted you here, muscle or not. The muscle is just a bonus.” Her hands trailed up his arms, squeezing his biceps with a grin. “You just need to give them time.”

“What about you?” Steve asked harshly. “You came along, and from what I can tell, none of you wasted any.”

“Rogers, by some very strange coincidence, about the only people left on this world that can touch me are all in this room,” Natasha said, her eyes glittering. “And they’re all of them people I’ve got feelings for – in one fashion or another. I don’t know what’s running through my veins, what the Red Room did to me, but I know I wouldn’t have survived New York without it. But that doesn’t tell me how long I’ll live. The three of you can potentially outlive me. I’m not wasting it.”

“Nat,” Steve breathed out, his eyes going wide. He wasn’t even sure where to start unwrapping any of that. Her reassurances. The idea that she had feelings for him when he’d been so certain she didn’t reciprocate them. Her potential - maybe not so future - death.

“Don’t, Steve,” she shhhd him, brushing her mouth against his lightly, nuzzling in to the scruff along his jaw, her fingers curling around the back of his neck. “Just don’t. Just be here, with us, please?”

He nodded, a little dazed and she pressed closer to him, teasing her tongue along his lips. Steve wasn’t sure what it said about him, that he craved the tingle of pain her touch brought, that he was so used to it, that he almost didn’t register the pain.

Closing his eyes on a groan, he surged upright in his seat, clasped his hands around her waist and pulled her in, pulled her tight, pressing Nat down on his hard cock as he deepened the kiss.

“C’mon, Rogers,” Nat said, breaking the kiss, rolling her hips down as she trailed kisses along his throat, traced the skin just above the collar with her tongue. “Ready for that reward now?” His fingers tightened around her waist, he bucked up, cursing the clothing she still wore, and she gasped, pulling back with a grin. “Guess you are.”

She slid off him, standing, and stripped, her clothes falling around her feet in a puddle as Steve just stared. Nat smiled down at him, pushing the towel aside and revealing his cock. She teased a single finger up the twitching length of it –

“Nat,” Steve groaned.

“Yes, Steve?” she smirked down at him as she crawled back on the chair, straddling his legs.

“Please,” he whispered, trying to find his breath as he stared up into her face. Unlike with Bucky, Nat was  _ always  _ in control, and Steve was okay with that.

“Since you asked nicely,” she said, then sunk down on his cock. His head fell back with a punched out moan. Being inside her was an exquisite torture – not nearly as deadly as her touch, but still likely deadly to an ordinary man.

They hadn’t tested that, because it didn’t matter, not when she’d had Steve. And now Winter and Barton too.

She took control as she always did, her hands braced on his shoulders as she lifted herself up off his cock and dropped down, riding him slowly at first, then speeding up. He stared up at her, barely registering Barton padding past her, still naked. He barely noticed the sound of the boxes opening or the groan as Barton bit into a slice of pizza.

He  _ did  _ see the metal hand briefly grip Natasha’s side before sliding upwards, pulling her back enough to meet Winter in a kiss, the brown and red hair mingling. She let go of Steve with one hand to catch Winter’s head in it, pull his hair hard, while still rocking down on Steve’s cock, her body undulating with a dangerous grace he’d come to associate with Widow.

It was goddamn gorgeous.

Far from being jealous, the sight turned Steve on more than he’d dreamed. Breathing hard, hands darting out to grab Nat’s thighs in a bruising grip, Steve thrust up into her slick heat. She clenched around him, moaning into Winter’s mouth.

With wide eyes, Steve watched Winters’ metal hand sliding back down Nat’s body, cupping her curves till his finger settled between her legs. Steve heard her gasp, felt her falter and tremble and he picked up the pace. Between Steve and Winter, Nat fell apart and feeling swelled within Steve, rising up and surprising him with its strength –

He jerked upward desperately, once, twice, hands sliding over her flanks to her ass and pulling her down hard onto his cock as she writhed in his and Winter’s arms before slumping back with a blissful look, Winter catching her, nuzzling at her neck gently.

Steve came with an almost sob, and clutched at her body as they came down from their euphoria. The sound of his and her harsh breathing filled the room.

“Mmm… dinner  _ and  _ a show,” Barton said, drawing Steve’s eyes to where the man lounged – still naked – against the counter, pizza in hand, eyes twinkling with mirth and hunger. “Must be my lucky day.”


	8. Not So Okay...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes bingo card - square; Collars
> 
> it made its appearance early on, was mentioned early on, but its got more of a impact this chapter so, we're going with this chapter

The following week was like a dream. They traveled – sometimes for long hours, sometimes not, the whim seemed entirely up to Barton – and holed up in various places, sometimes of rather dubious quality.

Steve couldn’t tell, at first, if he was getting anywhere with Barton or Winter. They seemed content to fuck each other, or Nat, and leave the fucking of Steve to Nat.

Honestly, Nat was getting the most action right now. She’d really meant what she’d said, about not wasting an instant of whatever time she had left.

The idea that she didn’t have much time left had Steve dreading the future, even as he impatiently waited for something, some _sign_ , that Winter still wanted him.

He still wasn’t sure what to make of Barton. He was hot – Steve would have to be blind not to see that – and possibly a little insane.

Then again, Steve was fairly sure they _all_ were, to some degree.

They arrived in Vancouver – getting over the border had been too fucking easy with the chaos the world was in right now - while Steve was still trying to work out what he thought of Barton and the evening before they struck the HYDRA facility was spent in planning.

Honestly, there wasn’t really much to plan. Between the four of them, they had 2 heavy hitters, 2 insanely good marksmen, 3 quick healers and whatever Nat was capable of, 1 body poisonous to the touch and 3 infiltrators – one of which was _scarily_ good.

They also had a hell of a lot of ammo and surprise on their side.

Engaging in the Vancouver facility wasn’t quite as easy as the farmhouse had been, but the HYDRA guards and scientists had been no less taken by surprise, no less dead in the end.

“Three down,” Barton counted as they watched the building burn from a nearby rooftop. There was grim satisfaction in his voice and Winter crowded in close behind him. Fire flickered over their faces as Steve watched. Their faces were locked onto the devastated building, Winter’s hands had curled around Barton’s biceps, almost – but not quite – an embrace.

All at once, Steve felt as if he was witnessing a moment that was all too private, not meant for him - though he’d seen both of them in all their naked glory, had once been fucked thoroughly and regularly by Bucky in ways so intimate that this one single _vulnerable_ moment should pale in comparison but didn’t - and he turned away with a shudder.

He couldn’t ever really hope to understand what they had gone through, what they were _going_ through with every time they came willingly into contact with one of those chairs.

He wished there was something he could do.

They didn’t travel far that night. Vancouver was big and there was a lot of cover, and Barton and Winter were on each other almost before the hotel room door shut behind Nat. It wasn’t gentle, like that first night in Detroit. It was more desperate than that, life affirming fear.

Steve had long since lost any need to look away when Winter and Barton fucked – or any of them, really - and even if he hadn’t, Nat would make him watch, tease him, bringing him right to the edge again and again.

This time, Barton’s eyes landed on Steve, where he sat stripped and at Nat’s mercy, meeting Steve’s eyes. He chuckled, twisting out of Winter’s grip and padded over to Steve and standing before him.

Not able to help himself, Steve’s eyes drifted downward to stare at Barton’s cock, thick and hard and heavy between his legs. Long fingers wrapped around it, stroking it once, twice, slowly and leisurely.

Steve whimpered, his own cock twitching.

“God, you _are_ so needy, so desperate. You want this? Do you want me?” Barton teased, flicking his thumb over the head of his cock.

Nodding frantically, Steve continued to stare at Barton’s cock. At the metal fingers that joined Barton’s. Steve’s breathing picked up.

“How do you want it? Want me to fuck you? Or do you wanna suck me off?”

Steve groaned, his eyes fluttering, his wrists flexing in the ties Nat had bound him to the chair with. They were strong, whatever they were. Strong enough to keep him there unless he exerted a _lot_ of effort.

And he didn’t want to, so he didn’t.

“Fuck, you really do,” Barton said with pleased surprise. “Was he always like this?”

“Mmmhmmm….” Winter said, propping his chin over Barton’s shoulder, a deceptive, sleepy eyed gaze on Steve. “Yeah, I’ve been remembering things. There was this club, one of those underground ones you didn’t want to get caught in, but for guys like us… and there was skinny little Steve being passed around like a party favor. He couldn’t get enough of it.”

Steve whimpered. He remembered that, remembered what Winter was saying. It was how he and Buck had gotten together.

“I watched them, watched _him_ , taking cock after cock. He was buck naked, tied down and covered in come and half the guys didn’t do much more than pull it outta their pants to get their turn with him.” Winter was finally looking at Steve with a little heat in his eyes and Steve whimpered. “I’d been pining after Stevie like a lovesick puppy for ages and then I saw him like _that._ It was a goddamned revelation.”

Barton’s smile was going wider with every word and Steve was drowning in memory, in remembered sensations, all those men, how good it had felt and then the pure terror he’d felt when he’d realized Bucky had found him and what that would mean – and the glorious surprise when –

“Then I took him back home and fucked him good, taught him he was _mine_ ,” Winter purred into Barton’s ear. “I think… that mighta been our first time. Was a little rough on him, but he liked that.”

“You liked it rough, huh?” Barton said. He glanced over Steve’s shoulders at Nat and smirked. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“You remembered that?” Steve’s voice wavered, throat tight, eyes focused past Barton to stare at Winter, into eyes that held more shadows than the man Steve had once known ever had.

Winter’s arms wrapped around Barton’s middle, thumbs sliding idly up and down his abs as Winter draped himself completely over Barton’s back. Barton didn’t seem to mind, humming lightly and leaning back just enough to twist and mouth at Winter’s neck.

“Pretty sure I just told you I did, pal,” Winter said, a hint of his old Brooklyn twang surfacing, staring at Steve with hooded eyes. “Couldn’t fuckin’ believe my eyes. Was so goddamned jealous that I’d wanted you so bad, for so long. Believed I couldn’t have you so I went to go scratch an itch and there you fuckin’ were. Just lettin’ yourself get used by any guy with a dick, when I coulda done that for ya.”

“You always hated sharin’,” Steve said thickly.

“Is that right?” Natasha’s voice suddenly purred in Steve’s ear. Her hands came down on his shoulders and squeezed, bringing bright spots of pain with them. He muffled his moan but couldn’t help the abortive thrust into nothing. “What about now?” she licked a teasing stripe up Steve’s neck and he gasped.

“I’m a different person now,” Winter said, closing his eyes when Barton bit down on his neck. Steve’s own attention was glued to where Barton’s lips moved over Winter’s neck, watching the start of pretty little bruises spring up in their wake, even though they wouldn’t last. Winter grinned, opening his eyes again. “And I’m _still_ opposed to sharin’. But I got exceptions now.”

Winter squeezed Barton’s waist and nudged at his head till their lips met, breaking Barton’s hold on his neck.

“Don’t mind sharing you and Nat and Clint, s’long as it’s with each other. Anyone else touches you…” Winter trailed off with a glare. Steve’s cock twitched and Barton laughed.

“God, he _loves_ jealous you,” Barton said. “But it sounds like I’ve got permission to take what I want.”

Clint’s eyes glinted as he grabbed a hold of Steve’s shoulders and carefully climbed into the chair, pushing Steve’s thighs to spread wide and give him space to kneel. Once he was steady, he put a hand in Steve’s hair and yanked his head back, Steve groaning at the pinpricks of pain, Clint’s other hand going to fist his cock before slowly pushing forward, teasing the head of it over Steve’s lip.

“Yeah, you want this?” Clint muttered. Steve whimpered and strained forward, mouth opening. Clint moved as Steve moved, keeping his cock out of reach before trailing the leaking head along the line of Steve’s bottom lip. He could almost _taste_ Barton and he groaned, daring a tongue out to –

Nat smacked his shoulder. “Nuh uh, Steve. Clint’s in charge right now.”

Groaning, Clint pushed the head of his cock past Steve’s lips in a shallow thrust, then pulled back out, repeating it several times before his hips snapped forward, shoving his cock deep into Steve’s throat, Natasha’s fingers skimming along his neck, leaving behind little blips of beautiful pain. Steve’s eyes fluttered.

 _Oh, fuck, yes_ , he thought as Clint drew back and snapped forward again.

Weight suddenly settled onto his back, climbed up onto his shoulders, the burning trail of the widows’ touch. Her legs came around his face and dangled down, then tucking behind his back, her hands pulling at his hair harshly and -

 _Oh Jesus,_ she was grinding down on his neck and shoulders, the wetness of her searing deliciously against his skin.

Looking up, he saw her and Clint reach for each other, their mouths meeting in a messy tangle as they used Steve for their pleasure. He swelled as he took Clint’s dick, massaging his lips over the skin while Clint pushed and pulled, and spoke, most of it going over Steve’s head, so lost he was in everything they gave and took.

“Oh, fucking fuck,” Clint breathed, thrusting in to Steve’s mouth. “You didn’t tell me how perfect he is. How beautiful his lips would look ‘round my cock.”

This was perfect, near perfect, he had two of the three of them… taking what they needed from him, giving him what _he_ needed. He sucked hard along the shaft as Clint thrust into his mouth, doing his best to run his tongue along Clint’s dick as it moved in him.

“God, I wanna see him taking yours, the sight would be goddamn gorgeous,” Clint gasped out.

There was soft panting mixed with the harder moans and Clint sped up, his hands trailing down and yanking at – at the fucking collar on Steve’s neck, using it as a handle to pull Steve down, fucking into his face hard.

“Oh fuck, you’re perfect. Winter, his mouth,” Clint groaned. “It’s goddamned sin incarnate. Oh fuck, I’m going to hell,”

“Hmm…” Nat hummed her agreement. “Pretty sure we’re headed there already, and for things much worse than this.” She leaned over Steve, tracing her fingers up and down his throat as Steve swallowed around Clint’s cock.

“Ngg…. Perfect, so perfect, baby. God, I can’t believe how much you,” Clint grunted and jerked forward, and Steve was choking and it was so fucking good – “how much you love this-“ Steve’s cock was throbbing with unspent need, god he was so fucking close – “How much you _need_ this, so desp-desp – “

Clint shot down Steve’s throat, using the collar again to yank him in painfully close, burying himself deep, choking Steve with cock and come.

Above him, Nat was still grinding, writhing, using him against her clit. It couldn’t be comfortable, for her, or particularly satisfying but he didn’t think it was about that anyway – then she proved him absolutely wrong, pulling his hair sharply as she orgasmed and Steve opened his eyes, whimpering with his own need, catching Winter’s stormy eyes.

There was something strange in them, as he stood beside them now, instead of behind Clint, and he was staring hard at Steve’s neck as Nat slid off him with her usual boneless grace, landing lightly to one side, exposing Steve’s neck to Winter’s view.

No, he was staring at the _collar_. There was something unreadable in his face and then he darted forward, breathing hard, eyes wild and not really seeing Steve at all.

“Get that fucking thing off him,” Winter growled suddenly, clawing at the collar that Clint had been using as leverage to fuck Steve’s face.

Steve stared at Winter dumbly.

“Get it off him,” Winter repeated, his voice cracking. “Get it off, get it off, get it off.”

Clint jerked back from Steve, stumbled off the chair and almost fell before catching his balance and grabbing Winter’s arms.

“Winter! Winter, it’s okay. Nat’ll get it, okay? He’s fine,” Clint said, moving a struggling Winter away from Steve.

Nat scrambled down and was kneeling before Steve in an instant as he watched Clint and Winter in horror. Her hands flying over the collar, over his neck, leaving a trail Steve knew he’d _love_ to look at in the mirror for as long as it would last.

Fuck, he was still hard, Nat’s hair setting him on fire as she frantically checked over the collar. Winter was panicking and now was so not the time, but his dick hadn’t gotten the message yet that _something_ was wrong.

“Clint, I can’t get it,” Nat swiveled her head to stare at Clint and Winter. “And if I do this wrong…”

“Hawk, get it off him, please,” Winter begged, his voice small. Hearing Winter’s misery left Steve conflicted. He’d wanted the damn collar off, sure, wanted them to trust him enough that they didn’t feel they needed it…

But he also liked being at their collective mercy, liked being used by them. And the collar had seemed like a good reminder of that. He’d been reminded of simpler times, back when Bucky was still Bucky, back before the war and the superhero business.

God, Steve missed those days. Things had been _simpler_ than.

Not necessarily _better_ – there were times when Steve and Bucky had both starved, unsure where their next meal would come from – he’d never go so far as to say _that_. There’d been times when the only heat they had was body heat. Times when Steve had been sure he’d not survive another night thanks to being so sick all the time, so susceptible to colds during the winter season.

He’d gotten so tired of hiding who he really was. He knew Bucky had too. It’d been a miracle the two of them had figured things out before it was too late.

Times had been _hard._

But they’d been simpler.

They’d been able to drown themselves in each other. If either of them had a bad day, they’d been able to offer comfort, going with whatever felt right in the moment. Their decisions affected no one else, just them, and it’d been good.

Steve hadn’t needed to wonder if the good guys were actually bad guys in disguise. Hadn’t thought he’d been doing good only to find that he'd been working for the bad guys all along.

Every decision he made for himself, every time he’d tried to do something _right_ , he’d made another wrong turn, had wound up here.

Maybe Steve shouldn’t make his own decisions anymore. He’d proven disastrous with them. Hadn’t saved Bucky, hadn’t stopped Hydra, hadn’t even managed to kill himself right – woke up in a new century and signed on with the first government agency that had said “Trust us – we do good things!” and look how that had turned out?

Then he’d failed to save New York, had failed at being a team leader, had failed Tony, Nat and – he’d thought – Barton too. Had failed to save the _world_ only a few weeks ago now – his latest, in a string of failures.

And now when he should be pleased as punch that they were finally taking the collar off his neck, Steve found that he really didn’t want them to.

As Clint finished whatever he needed to do to disarm the collar, he unsnapped it and tossed it to the side, Winter giving a shudder as it crossed his view, unable to take his eyes off it when it landed in the corner.

“Tsssk,” Clint said, running his fingers over Steve’s throat, where the collar had been, pressing into it, a bright pinprick of pain flaring up and making Steve gasp. “Fuck, it’s marked you up pretty good. You looked good in a collar. Too bad we can’t keep it.”

Steve whimpered again, eyes torn between Clint and Winter.

Nat was kneeling by him now, and Winter had curled up in her arms. Seeing how distraught Winter was helped Steve to cool down, confusion pulling at him. Steve had been wearing the damn thing for over a week now, and it’d been fine, so why had it set Winter off so suddenly?

“What… I don’t understand what happened?”

“Memories,” Clint said, sighing. He dropped to the floor beside Steve, looked over at him properly and frowned, turning to undo the knots that had kept Steve tied to the chair. “No chairs. No resets.”

“But… you all said… he wasn’t reset very often?” Steve brought his hands forward and rubbed at his wrists.

Clint shook his head. “Resets happened if things became troublesome. Like meeting old childhood fuckbuddies outta the blue. You can imagine that doesn’t happen all too often.”

“This is my fault?” Steve asked, hands stilling, his breathing growing restricted, his chest tight.

“Calm down, captain masochist,” Clint said with an exhausted sigh, patting Steve’s thigh. “This would have happened eventually, with or without you.”

Steve didn’t say anything. Maybe Clint was right, but…

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way Winter clutched at Nat, at how _soft_ she was with him and it reminded Steve, again, how broken all three of them were, how he’d never really understand them.

What was he even doing, right now? Besides their mission, what did Steve hope to accomplish?

Was he deluding himself in thinking anything could come of this?

Of them?

He watched her gently soothe her hands through Winters hair, over his arm, watched the red welts and trailing lines she inevitably left behind because of her poisonous touch and Steve thought maybe he was…

But he couldn’t leave them, any of them.

They deserved more than what they’d gotten and he’d do his best to help them get it.

He blinked as something else occurred to him. Winter and Clint and Nat – they were all broken, in so many ways. He’d seen little hints of it in the past two years of working with Nat, in the odd glint in Clint’s eyes, in Winter’s current breakdown.

And Winter wasn’t the only one to get the chair, to have his mind messed with, memories coming and going and Steve couldn’t help staring at Clint in horror.

“Wait, you’re not…” Steve found he couldn’t finish the question, unsure how to ask it, how not to offend, or if he really wanted to know the answer, even though he suspected it anyway.

“Not what?” Clint said, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Steve gestured helplessly towards Nat and Winter.

“Who says I’m not?” Clint looks back with raw honesty, haunting pain and bitterness shrouding his blue eyes. “I just fuck it all away. But you might wanna reconsider sticking around – “

Steve jolted. Did he have a choice about that? Even if he wanted to leave – which he didn’t - would Winter be okay with that?

“-cause that sure as hell ain’t always gonna be good enough. We’re all of us a bit off our rockers.”

“So am I,” Steve said softly, even though it wasn’t the same.

“Hmm…” Clint didn’t call him out on it. Instead, he shifted against the chair leaning up against Steve, wrapping an arm around his leg. He’d wiped his face of his feelings, his eyes were hooded as he watched Nat comforting Winter, as if nothing was bothering him but his grip was tight enough to leave bruises on even Steve’s skin.

As he’d said himself, Clint _really_ wasn’t okay either. But he was surprisingly aware of it and it made Steve shake his head internally. The one thing he hadn’t expected from Clint was to be warned off, actually cautioning Steve that things would – not might, but _would_ – get dicey.

But that was fine. Steve wasn’t one to run off the second things got difficult. He’d stick to his earlier resolve to stand by Nat, and Winter and Clint too.

Steve blinked…

And when the fuck had he started thinking of Barton as Clint?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so endeth part 1
> 
> we'll be back with more!


	9. Making Plans...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are moving forward, plans have been made, but instead of feeling like they're making progress towards their goal, Steve's feeling a little low...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in my head, i have this story unofficially broken up into 3 parts - and this would be the start of part 2.   
> Anyway, i have the next 4 chapters after this written and getting looked at and partials of the rest of the chapters already in the works ;D
> 
> liraelclayr said this was good to put up, but declared that i was Evil and i made her cry... so... that's your warning :joy:

When morning came, Winter acted as if he hadn’t had a meltdown the night prior.

Steve was unsure if that was because he didn’t want to face it or if he truly forgot. Either of those were frightening prospects. Instead, the four of them sat around the little table in their motel room, planning the next step, maps and papers spread everywhere.

“Cancun, Los Angeles, Budapest, Cairo, Omsk and Tokyo.” Clint ticked them off on his fingers. “Which should we hit next?

“Damn,” Steve whistled. “Those are pretty spread out there.”

“It isn’t easy to move one of these things. It was easier to move one of us to the source,” Winter said, words almost a whisper. Steve heard him easily but… there was something in his tone that made him want to shiver.

There was silence for a second before Steve cleared his throat, determined to move on.

“Okay. Canada’s one thing,” Steve said, eyes scanning over the map spread over the table. “But a few of those… We don’t exactly have the kind of pull SHIELD – or HYDRA, I guess –“ That still stuck in Steve’s craw and he had to pause and gather himself before he continued – “We don’t have the backing we used to have to make international travel easier. Or the resources. How are we going to get overseas? I doubt any of us could get on a plane without an issue.”

Natasha smiled. “Don’t worry. Nothing simpler,” she said. Clint grinned at her. He tapped the table then waved his hands at her. She nodded and he laughed, slapping the table.

“We’ll raid another HYDRA base, one of the ones disguised as SHIELD’s. Steal one of the quinjets, one of the ones with cloaking. No airports. No travel papers or ID’s necessary. No checkpoints. No having to find new weapons on the other side and, most importantly, no incoming missiles,” Clint chortled gleefully.

Winter perused the map. “If we want to keep them guessing,” he said slowly, before reaching out to tap the map. “How about this one?”

They all leaned forward.

“Austin, Texas?” Steve said, brow furrowing. “They’re hiding planes at a base in the city of Austin?”

“No, actually. It’s a little ways outside of Austin. Private property,” Clint said. “And to continue that thought, I say we skip Los Angeles for now, head to Tokyo, maybe?”

Nat nodded. “It’s perfect. There’s plenty of other places closer to here we could have hit for supplies, or they may think we’ll go straight to Los Angeles… this place will be fairly undefended with all the chaos going on.”

Clint clapped his hands and rubbed them together gleefully, his usual smirk taking on an evil little glint. “All right. We’ve got a plan. Let’s get our asses moving.”

* * *

The way down to the base they’d picked was rough. Just as it had been on their way to Detroit, then Vancouver, some places looked like they’d never been touched by HYDRA’s wave of devastation, while others were in ruins with various states in between.

Steve had seen all that before but suddenly, it was worse, somehow, in the long drive down from Vancouver to Austin.

Steve was seeing firsthand the destruction he’d failed to stop, the ramifications of his failure continuously rammed into his face with every mile they traveled. It was too much, too constant, to ignore any longer.

His mood dropped the further they went and the more he saw. Sometimes staying in motels – both abandoned and not – sometimes the odd warehouse, but occasionally an  _ actual _ house that had withstood the destruction but had, for whatever reason, been abandoned.

They were in one such house when Steve hit bottom. He picked at his plate, he grunted at questions, unable to stomach the food or even spare the energy to be polite. Winter and Nat were just as quiet, though that was also normal for them. Clint chattered – which also seemed to be normal. Or at least, it was for the moment. He also went too quiet sometimes for Steve’s nerves.

But tonight, the incessant chatter about nothing at all was truly grating on Steve’s nerves. How could they just… see all this and it not mean a goddamned thing to them? Had HYDRA warped them that much?

“So, then this guy just – “

Steve tossed down his fork and shoved back his chair, startling Clint into silence. Fists clenching, he gritted his teeth. “I’m a little tired,” he lied, before leaving the room.

He climbed the stairs, feeling like a vulture, a ghoul, come in to rob the dead. Wherever the family that lived here had been when HYDRA’s Project Insight had come to fruition, it was clear they weren’t coming back. But there were several bedrooms and Steve picked the first one he found and dropped himself onto the too small bed, clutching at his head. He curled up, facing away from the door and heaved in big breaths that caught on strong, despairing sobs.

If he’d been a little stronger, a little faster, if he hadn’t let the sight of Bucky distract him… would all these people be alive now? Would he never be good enough? All he ever wanted to do was to stand up to the bullies, to let people live a fair life.

How had things gone so wrong?

Steve was far from tired physically, but mentally… god, he was fucking  _ exhausted _ . His breathing hitched as footsteps came up the stairs, paused by his closed door, but then moved on after a long moment.

Eventually, his sobs eased, his tears dried, and Steve fell asleep, but even his dreams were wrought with images of hollowed out homes and broken bodies and he slept fitfully.

He wasn’t sure how much later it was when he woke up, but it was late enough that the sky through the window was dark and the house was the kind of silent Steve – even after all this time in this strange future – just couldn’t get the hang of.

He was a Brooklyn boy, a city boy, through and through, with noises of all sorts a simple fact of life, the lullaby to which he’d fallen asleep to on many occasions, many nights.

Any thought that it might have been the nightmare that woke him was gone before he’d even fully registered it – the feeling of a body behind him all too real, the murmur of Bucky’s voice -  _ not Bucky!  _ He reminded himself  _ - _ penetrating his slow-moving consciousness.

“That’s it, Stevie,” Winter was murmuring in that somewhat rougher voice than Steve was used to hearing, the one that wasn’t used near as much as Bucky’s had been, but it was soft, gentle, and the warmth of the familiar body pressed up against his back was glorious.

Winter’s metal hand was rubbing along Steve’s arm, the other wormed beneath him, Winter’s breath tickling the back of Steve’s neck.

“Winter?” Steve asked, voice cracking. Was it Winter or Bucky in his bed? How much more was Winter remembering?

“Shhhh….” Winter said. He rocked forward slowly and Steve’s eyes closed on a sharp, indrawn breath. Winter was hard. And in Steve’s bed. “Y’know, I remember this.”

“R-remember what?” Steve couldn’t quite breathe, afraid to shatter this moment. Was he still dreaming? Was this still a nightmare, something that could be taken away from him again?

How many times must he lose Bucky?

“Mmm… waking you up with my cock in your ass,” Winter hummed, pressing closer, harder and Steve groaned, wished the clothes weren’t in the way, desperately wanting to feel Winter’s flesh against his.

As if Winter had heard his thoughts – or had Steve spoken them aloud? – his hands moved, torturously slow, pushing Steve’s clothes out of the way and –

“Oh my god,” Steve breathed, Winter’s hard – already naked – cock nudging at his hole.

“I remember you begging for it,” Winter whispered into his ear before biting down on it. Steve whimpered. “You gonna beg for it, Steve?” When Steve didn’t answer, Winter yanked his head back and bit at his shoulder, pressing, pressing, pressing slowly but inexorably in.

Steve whimpered at the burn, Winter’s way eased only by pre come but Steve didn’t care. He loved it, had missed it, missed this. Had missed  _ Bucky.  _ And this wasn’t Bucky anymore but the more time he spent around Winter, the more convinced Steve was that there were parts of Bucky still alive in there, and if parts were all he could get, than he’d take it .

He was breathing hard by the time Winter bottomed out. It had seemed to take forever, with slow, shallow thrusts, Steve whining for more, but now Winter felt impossibly huge. Had Winter always felt this  _ big _ , this amazing?

Steve pushed back and let out a surprised but pleased breath when he realized he couldn’t, that Winter was holding him in a tight grip.

“Gotta beg me, Steve,” Winter said.

“Jesus, Winter,” Steve whined, clenching down on Winter’s cock. “Just do it!”

“That’s not begging,” Winter growled, sending little shivers through Steve, his dick twitching as he gasped at Winter’s words.

“God,” Steve nearly sobbed, “Please, just, just fuck me. Please, please, plea – ah!”

Winter pulled out and snapped forward and Steve choked.

“Yeah, yeah, just like that,” he managed. “Please, Winter. Harder. Make it so I can feel you for _ days…” _

“That's gonna be a little hard to do, ain't it pal?” Winter's metal hand slid down Steve’s thigh, then up and around to grasp his cock in a too tight grip, still fucking Steve, slow but hard. “You heal up pretty damn fast. Faster’n me.”

Steve's cock twitched and he whimpered. “Don’t hold back, for fuck’s sake,” Steve whispered breathlessly, bringing his hand down to rest on Winter’s, tossing his head back into Winter’s shoulder.

With a grunt, Winter picked up the pace, thrusting deep and hard as Steve groaned and rocked into every thrust. Winter’s hand pumped Steve’s cock, the metal warming quick and slicking up fast.

All of Steve’s spiraling thoughts melted away as Bucky fucked him just the way he wanted, had absolutely craved with an intensity that used to scare him. Winter pushed where Bucky would never  _ quite  _ go, fucking Steve with punishingly hard thrusts and bruising grip as the hand under Steve’s head worked its way to his throat and jaw, jerking his head up and back painfully.

Even the hand on Steve’s cock was a delightful torture, taking in turns of light, teasing strokes and almost too tight a grip, staving off any release.

It was… it was… it was everything…

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, yeah… Ju- just drill me,” Steve swore and gasped as Winter hit his prostate. “Jesus, yeah, nnnnnggg… take me… use me… Mark me as yours, god I need you to mark me…”

“Jesus...” Winter whispered against Steve’s neck, sucking and biting hard. Winter snapped his hips forward and Steve howled then sobbed at the deliciously fast pace he set.

“Don’t stop,” Steve begged. “Please…” Jesus, he was on fire, the burn of the stretch to fit around Winter’s cock given way to the desire, the need he had to be filled and used, to be hurt for his failures, to come on Winter’s cock like he used to.

“Goddamn, Steve,” Winter said, his voice filled with awe and raw need. There was a hitching gasp behind Steve as he twisted his fingers through Winter’s, pressing them tighter about his cock. “You were always so needy, but I don’t quite remember this.”

“R-remember what?” Steve whispered, unable to keep his eyes open, just relishing the feel of Winter’s cock fucking him, sliding hot and hard into his ass and punching out gasps and moans with each stroke.

“This need for someone to hurt you,” Winter said. “What if I don’t want to?”

“I can take it,” Steve said, almost freezing at the thought that Winter would stop. “Fuck, I need it. You can’t stop,” Steve choked, his earlier sobs rising into his chest once more. “I deserve it, you can’t… I need you, please…”

“Doesn’t matter if you can take it,” Winter said, his hips slowing as he talked, his hand stilling on Steve’s cock. There was worry in his voice, maybe for the first time since they’d started this weird ass road trip.

“Damn you, Winter,” Steve snarled, pushing back onto Winter’s cock and smiling smugly when Winter groaned and reflexively snapped forward, filling Steve. “Don’t stop. You gotta make me forget –“

Winter pulled out, leaving Steve empty and throbbing and completely unsatisfied. Growling, he roughly shoved Steve onto his back and kneeled above him, caging him in with his arms and a glare shadowed by his hanging hair.

It didn’t hide the anger flashing in Winter’s gray eyes.

“Forgetting’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you fucking moron. Why the  _ fuck  _ would you want to forget?”

Steve looked away from that gaze. “Some things are a blessing to forget.”

Winter grabbed his chin and forced Steve to look at him. The glare hadn’t diminished Steve’s desire. In fact, it had only enhanced it. Winter’s stare was intense and Steve gasped, eyes closing as his hips twitched upward in search of friction.

Winter snarled and squeezed Steve’s chin harder. “Grass is always greener, but I’m tellin’ ya, punk, you start forgetting stuff and eventually, you don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“It’s not the same,” Steve protested weakly. “It’s not… it’s just temporary, just a way to get out of my head a little, so I’m not drowning in all the bad. I need to breathe, Winter. I just need a few moments to breathe and regroup. There ain’t much that helps with that, please….”

Winter’s grip eased after several long moments and then he was pushing back in and Steve’s hands were scrabbling at Winter’s back, his legs wrapping around Winter’s waist as he groaned, eyes fluttering in surprised but happy shock.

Steve let himself go, let himself slip down into a space where he no longer had to think, could forget – as he’d said – for a little while, the things he’d been seeing these past few weeks. Everything narrowed down to Winter’s tight and bruising grip, the bites that came close to breaking skin and drawing blood, the harsh snap of Winter’s hips as he took Steve, giving Steve what he craved.

“You are like my Hawk,” Winter said, breathlessly. “Needing to fuck away his troubles.” Winter leaned up, despite Steve’s desperate pull. “I know how to do that. I can be that for you, too.” He gazed down at Steve with an emotion Steve couldn’t quite pick out, even as he yanked and pulled Steve down harshly.

Groaning, Steve’s eyes closed, feeling every inch of Winter’s cock, reveling in the pinpricks of pain from Winter’s fingertips, from the pinches from the metal plates against his skin.

Winter leaned back in again, capturing Steve’s mouth in their first kiss, biting down on his bottom lip before thrusting his tongue inside.

Steve came with a gasp, jerking upward and freezing in place, twitching as Winter chased his own release, pulling Steve so close to him, that Steve thought they would meld into one.

Then Winter came, quietly, as was his wont – was that a carryover from when they had to be quiet, or was it a residue of the things HYDRA had done to him? - slumping down on Steve like a dead weight, breathing hard. Steve couldn’t help his hands carding through the long hair. It was so unlike Bucky’s and it was a little greasy at the moment, but it was… soft, and felt good against his fingers, against his face, the tips of Winters hair tickling Steve’s neck as they breathed in and out in tandem.

Swallowing, Steve wondered if this was gonna work, or if he’d always be trapped by his memories of his past, unable to move into a new future… if Winter would ever remember the Bucky he’d been and how that would shape him in the future if he did.

Steve knew he couldn’t expect Winter to ever be the Bucky he remembered – not only was it not fair, it just wasn’t possible. Time always marched on and people changed regardless of whether they’d wanted to or not – it was just that… Bucky had been changed so much, he was a different person altogether.

Could he ever recover  _ any  _ of that?

Was Steve deluding himself?


	10. A Little Eye Opener

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve knew they were messed up, he _knew_ that, but this whole trip was just driving that point heartbreakingly home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's some brief violence in the end - i don't think its graphic but... here's your heads up

Nothing seemed to change after that. This wasn't a fairytale after all. Winter didn't seek him out more or even particularly avoid him. They just… went on as they had been but with glimpses of Bucky continuing to rise through the broken surfaces that Steve could see. Had they been there all along? Or was this new?

Steve stared, trying to pinpoint anything but not give himself false hope. He couldn’t even compare Winter with Clint or Nat and how they were - He hadn’t known Nat or Clint before, well, before anything, so they seemed the same to him as they always did, which was perhaps why seeing Winter like this, see the bits and pieces of Steve’s past in Winters eyes, his movements, his words - hurt Steve more.

The rest of the trip from Vancouver to Austin was spent like that, with Steve debating with himself about who Winter was and watching them all interact with each other, and with the world those few times they had to. Gas and food were still musts, and only so much of it could be lifted, Steve literally having to look the other way when it was.

On the plus side, it was a good distraction technique, mostly. He still couldn’t  _ not  _ see burned out shells of cars and homes, but Steve would force himself to look away from the window and at Winter, Clint and Nat instead.

Though sometimes, that wasn’t much better.

Still, Steve was learning things. Nat was the same as always, but more prone to touching others than she had been before. That was probably due to her recent bout of deprivation, of Steve being her only nonviolent point of contact these past two years. Otherwise, she was cool, calm, sometimes a little more detached than Steve would think was healthy – but her façade was breaking. The mask she wore slipped up more often, with soft moments and gentle, burning touches.

Clint was a disaster – but a miracle disaster. He had the sort of odd grace of someone who didn’t care what happened to him, because it didn’t matter if anything did, he’d shake it off. Steve had watched him drink scalding coffee straight from the pot and not even flinch. He blindly stepped off sidewalks or threw himself off buildings and, well, Steve had done the same, so maybe he shouldn’t judge.

Though, perhaps, the quinjet over the ocean wasn’t  _ quite  _ the same as a mere12 story building.

And Winter…

Winter glared –

And brought Clint his coffee in the morning, fingers trailing over Clint’s shoulders or his hip.

Winter stomped –

And tucked a blanket in close around Nat when she slept, leaning down to press the softest little kiss between her eyes.

Winter would go nonverbal, would stare at the wall with glazed over eyes for hours –

And curl around Steve at night, whenever Steve was feeling particularly low, whenever he’d stared out the window too long, and run his hands soothingly over Steve’s arms.

They all of them had bad nights, all of them had nightmares, and sometimes having another there helped and sometimes it didn’t. Clint’s nightmares had him springing for his bow and breathing hard. Winter had punched through a wall more than once.

Nat went quiet, still, and you couldn’t even touch her without a fight breaking out.

Steve… Steve turned his nightmares inward, a broken gasp shocking him awake, leaving him trembling and unable to return to sleep. But the others always seemed to know, would chase his nightmares away by enfolding him in their arms.

They seemed to take it in turns, no rhyme or reason that Steve could see, but the longer they were all four of them together, the more he craved their touches – the soft and soothing ones as much as the ones that lit him up, Nat’s and Clint’s too, not just Winter's and the remnants of a Bucky long gone.

Then they stopped for supplies, still about 30 miles out from Austin, and they split the tasks. Winter stayed with the van, filling its tank, while Nat went across the street to a real grocery store and Clint went straight for the convenience store attached to the gas station.

Steve followed Clint, heading straight for the newspapers just inside the door and snapping up one of all the still available papers he could find. There’d been a shortage of papers at most of their stops – some had simply run out, others were noticeably smaller than they should have been, and a few just didn’t seem to have been made in the first place, their offices devastated by HYDRA’s attack.

When Steve returned to the van, he found it abandoned and his heart just about stopped, the papers falling from his arms.

Head whipping left and right, Steve searched near frantic for Winter – and found him across the street, at the end of the lot closest to the gas stations, helping a family. It was an overwhelmed mother with three children intent on going in all directions, until Winter picked up the smallest and settled him across his shoulders, while the mother grabbed the other two by their hands. Then, with a single hand holding the child in place, Winter proceeded to load the families’ groceries into their small, beat up car.

This fierce, deadly assassin that HYDRA had turned Steve’s Bucky into… and he was helping this family, smiling at the children and their mother, acting for all the world like he’d never gone to war, had never been tortured or broken or remade.

Steve’s heart didn’t stop, but he was suddenly having difficulty breathing, with seeing. He was still gaping when Clint appeared at his elbow, a cheap, hot coffee in his hand. Leaning into Steve, he passed Steve a second Styrofoam cup.

“With everything HYDRA did to us, that was something they couldn’t quite change,” Clint said softly. “Most of Winter’s punishments came about because he stopped a mission to help someone, or because he refused orders. That was the one thing they couldn’t wipe away, the one thing they couldn’t get him to do – whatever they said, whatever they threatened, he wouldn’t hurt a kid or an animal.”

“Did you?” Steve asked hoarsely. He dreaded the answer and his heart thudded in his chest as he waited for it.

Clint’s mouth twisted bitterly. “Turned on my handlers every time. Knew they couldn’t kill me, so what did it matter if they punished me? I’d been through it before and came out the other side. ‘course, that was at least partially because Winter was there.”

“And even after, when they realized they could use Winter against me… I didn’t,” Clint’s voice cracked. “They hurt him, because I refused… and he’d  _ thank  _ me for it.”

Steve’s heart simultaneously swooped with relief and  _ broke _ to hear Clint’s words. While he’d been sleeping in the ice, Winter and Clint had been through literal hell, again and again and  _ again. _

Reaching out, Steve grasped the back of Clint’s neck and gave it a squeeze, rubbing his thumb along Clint’s hairline, then drawing back to rest on Clint’s shoulder. Not looking away from Winter as he stalked back across the street, Clint’s hand came up to cover Steve’s. It trembled as it did, clasping Steve’s in a tight, white knuckled grip before relaxing and dropping away.

Within moments, the four of them were back in the van, Clint and Winter in the front, as usual, with Clint at the wheel, while Steve and Nat sat behind them. She gave them all a onceover when she returned, climbing in but said nothing…

But she did curl up against Steve as she drank her own coffee. She’d kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her. Nat, Steve knew, could be just as deadly barefoot and supposedly unarmed as a trained soldier in full gear – and that was discounting the poison of her touch.

They arrived at their destination not long after, not even bothering to look for a place to hole up.

Once they nabbed themselves a quinjet, they wouldn’t be sticking around. They made sure not to get too close, circling around toward the back, towards one of the hangars and an airstrip – though a quinjet technically didn’t need one - and waited for nightfall to hit the place.

They’d long since finished their coffees and were currently going through the arsenal in the van. They’d be leaving behind anything they didn’t bring with them, after all, so a final check to see what they could and wanted to bring was for the best.

Not that the quinjet wouldn’t have its own weapons and tech cache, but Steve wasn’t leaving behind the shield and Clint wouldn’t be leaving behind his bow and Winter, apparently, was going to make sure that every knife he could find was making a home on his person somewhere.

Steve honestly couldn’t figure out where half of them had  _ gone. _

Heart thundering too much for what should be a basic operation, Steve suited up in the simple, black tac suit they’d found and altered for his size. With a nod to the others, Nat rolled the door of the van open and the four of them spilled out, landing noiselessly on the ground.

Ahead of them was the chain link fence, ‘bout 10 feet high with an extra foot or so of barbed wire on top – like that would stop them, or any of the other super humans Steve had met so far. Or a tank, for that matter.

It was surprisingly low tech for HYDRA, and even HYDRA as SHIELD. Like the farmhouse, they were relying on misdirection for safety, but Steve didn’t trust it. Thankfully, neither did the others. Nat was using her phone, fingers flying swiftly and gracefully over the surface, her voice calling out softly,

“Fence is electrified, definitely outside normal specs. High enough to kill a man, maybe even enough to kill a moose,” she said mildly.

“Moose ain’t much a worry out here in Texas,” Clint said with a snort. “Still, that won’t kill us either, just short us out a while.”

“Don’t worry, boys, I’m on it,” Nat said, still calm. Her finger made a few more movements and then – “Fence is down, alarms off and camera’s are looped. I may not be Tony Stark, but I always left myself a backdoor into every place I’ve ever been.”

Clint looked like he wanted to cackle, but thankfully, he held it in, simply nodding at Winter instead. Winter strode over to the fence, took two handfuls and  _ pulled,  _ creating a super soldier sized hole with room to spare in an instant.

They poured through the hole, then spread out, easing towards the hanger. They came up against the side of it, then crept along till they reached one end. Nat crouched low and peeked around the corner, then drew back swiftly, holding up two fingers. Two guards, then. Easy.

In tandem, Steve and Winter flew silently around the corner and had the guards out and down on the ground before either of them were aware they weren’t alone. He heard a sharp crack and turned to see Winter dropping his guards head. He glared at Steve when he realized Steve had merely knocked his guard unconscious.

Steve shook his head and Winter glared harder, pointing at the guard, then running a finger across his throat. Steve glared back belligerently, crossing his arms across his chest.

Not everyone working for SHIELD had also been working for HYDRA, and this may be a HYDRA facility, but it had also been a public one, disguised as SHIELD. How many non-HYDRA had passed through these walls? Might still be there?

Winter stalked towards him and Steve refused to give ground. The glare intensified in ways that made Steve’s stomach flip and then Winter reached down and snapped the guards’ neck.

It made Steve’s blood run cold.

In the heat of a fight was one thing, with yours and others lives on the line, but this was… this was…

This was what HYDRA had done to him… turned Bucky into Winter, a cold-blooded killer.

But this was the same man that had carried a child and helped a mother. That cuddled with Steve when he needed it. That wiped away Nat’s silent tears, and gave Clint soft neck kisses when he was agitated.

Steve shivered, unsettled, following the others inside.

It was deserted, most of the jets also gone, and maybe that accounted for the lack of guards. If everything was being moved out, for whatever reason, then what would be the point?

Still, Steve couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling as they climbed aboard one of the jets, and wasn’t altogether sure if that was because of the lack of resistance…

Or if it was for Winter’s actions.


	11. An Unexpected Encounter and Unwelcome News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunting down the chairs just got a lot more complicated...

The flight over the pacific was uneventful and quick. Finding a landing point in Tokyo was an issue. No official airports, no SHIELD facilities they could use, of course, and they didn’t want to be  _ too  _ far from their target.

Clint eventually found a rooftop with a good view, the four of them resigning themselves to having to take a small hike to get where they were going.

Or steal a car. Fuck, they were absolutely going to steal a car, weren’t they? Steve wasn’t too hung up about stealing shit from folks in certain circumstances, but the general population? How was it fair?

It was still night when they landed, though the city was lit up, and thankfully, they didn’t draw near as many eyes as Steve had feared they would.

Then again, Tokyo looked as devastated as DC did.

“Holy shit,” Clint said, freezing in the middle of the street. Steve froze too, glancing around. Had Clint seen something? “Holy shit!” Cling giggled, “HYDRA blew up Tokyo Tower.” He sniggered.

Steve looked at him, confused. “I’m sorry, is that important? Did it have strategic value?”

“Fuck no,” Clint choked out between gasping laughs. “Oh my god, they actually did it. We’re officially in an anime disaster flick.”

Was Clint losing it? Now? On the street? Fuck. He looked from Clint to Winter and Nat, but neither of them looked concerned, instead gazing down the skyline of Tokyo. Finally, Nat looked back and took pity on Steve.

“It’s a reference,” she said.

_ Of course it was. _

“Ah,” Steve said, still watching Clint warily . In his opinion, Clint was near hysterical in his laughter and Steve was a little afraid of what that might mean, but eventually, the laughter died down and the walking resumed.

Steve tried not to keep looking over his shoulder as they walked, the bags they carried doing much to hide the weapons they’d brought, but he felt so damn exposed out there on the street.

Thank god or whoever was out there listening anymore that they arrived at their target soon, and without incident.

Of course, the target – an office building only a couple stories high on the edge of the city – didn’t look like  _ it  _ was going unscathed. There was smoke coming from more than one window and muted shouts and strangely familiar sounds coming from deep inside.

They weren’t the only ones going after HYDRA. Steve had known it would happen, the radio and the papers going on often about the new Avengers, but he’d hoped they wouldn’t encounter them.

Uncertain of who they’d find, the four of them moved forward, the front doors already blasted open and off their hinges. Before they could enter, though, the noises inside stopped and figures moved ahead of them.

Then a couple of them stepped out into the light cast down by the nearby streetlamps and Steve’s stomach fell as his eyes came to rest on Tony Stark, Thor and three others he didn’t know.

Their first encounters had not been pleasant, he remembered, and Stark had sacrificed a hell of a lot.

Iron Man shot forward the instant he saw them, a wordless shout on his lips and Steve’s worst fears were realized as he saw the glow charging up in Starks metal glove.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Steve yelled, leaping between the two groups. “We’re on the same side here.”

“Are we, cap? You’re out of uniform,” Stark said defiantly, though he at least settled to the ground a foot or so away from them. “And I’m not sure I like the company you’re keeping these days.”

“Look, you  _ know  _ Nat, and Barton – we all fought on the same side in New York,” Steve said, hoping he could defuse the situation quickly.

Stark snorted. “Yeah, except we’ve learned better now. We’ve read files on your… ‘companions’ there.”

“Then you know whatever they did for HYDRA, it was against their will,” Steve said, trying to talk Stark down.

“Sure,” Stark agreed amiably enough. Steve started to relax. “But what HYDRA did to them? Had to have made them unstable. And  _ that  _ is what I’m wary of. What  _ you  _ should be wary of.”

Stark pressed forward, the faceplate swinging up and showing the scarred skin beneath it, the suit clanking ominously as he moved. Steve supposed it should be a good sign Stark was even talking to them, and that his faceplate was off as he did.

It was hard to take it as a good sign with the shit Stark was saying, though.

“How sure are you, exactly, that they won’t turn on you like rabid dogs?”

“I’d bet my life on it,” Steve said with conviction. Behind him, one of the others stepped closer, trailed fingers along his arm. Barton. It had to be Barton. Neither Winter nor Nat liked public displays of affection but Clint was always a bit looser in that regard.

“That’s not – that’s Stockholm Syndrome, Cap,” Stark said.

“I’m not sick, Stark,” Steve said.

“Oh, that’s not what he means,” Nat said with a deadly quiet. “He’s saying we manipulated you, warped your brain, coerced you into making decisions you wouldn’t have normally made.”

“He’s sayin’ we’re using you,” Clint spat. Winter stayed quiet, but his whole body was tense as he stared at the other team.

“Is that what you’re saying?” Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

“I mean, if the shoe fits, yeah. You were taken by assassins that worked for the bad guys and now you’re working with  _ them _ . Any way you cut it, that’s coercion,” Stark said. “They’re  _ using  _ you.”

“Not in any way I don’t want,” Steve snapped back.

“This is ridiculous. They’re loose cannons. And that one – “ Stark pointed at Winter, fury filling his features. Steve heard Clint shift and even without looking, was certain he was nocking an arrow… just in case. The bow would be hidden by Steve, but he was sure the other team hadn’t missed it.

“You killed my parents, terminator. Why should you get to walk free from that? They didn’t. Why shouldn’t someone be punished for that?  _ You _ pulled the trigger,” Stark snarled.

Winter rocked back as if he’d been hit. “I killed Howard…?” He whispered.

The quiet disbelief and horror seemed to knock Stark back, the anger bleeding from his face and voice. “Jesus. You didn’t even know?”

“You said you read the fucking files, Stark. What part of tortured and brainwashed didn’t you understand? He was under HYDRA’s control. They both were.” Steve’s hands were curled into fists and as much as he didn’t want this fight right now, he really fucking wanted to hit something. “ _ Now stop threatening them!” _

There was silence as those words were processed. From what Steve could tell, Starks new Avengers or whatever they were calling themselves didn’t seem to have much opinion on the current situation. They were wary, ready for a fight should one prove to be needed, but there was… there was actually understanding on the few faces he could see.

He turned to Winter, stepping close but not touching, talking softly, leaving Nat and Clint to keep an eye on the other team. “Hey, hey, it wasn’t you. Remember that. And remember, we’re taking it all back. All those sons of bitches, they’ll pay for all the shit they did, for the things they made you do.”

Winter blew out a breath that played at the edges of his hair and nodded. Steve relaxed a little. This had been one of the worst moments for Stark's group to come across theirs, with emotions riding high from the expectation of facing yet another one of those goddamn chairs that had ripped both Winter’s and Clint’s lives apart.

And with them, so many others.

Stark looked away from them and his eyes landed on Clint, lighting up in an odd way, even though he must have seen him earlier. As Stark began to talk, Steve wondered what the hell he was playing at.

“Hey, if it isn’t Hawkeye! I see the rumors of your demise have been greatly exaggerated,” Stark drolled. Steve turned to look at him, giving him more of his attention. Stark acting surprised that Clint was here – he had to have known right from the get go, so what the fuck was he trying to pull.

Clint’s bow was held loosely in his hands, not quite pointing at anyone, but an arrow still ready to go. He shrugged. “Eh, y’know. Like a cockroach. Real damn hard to kill.”

“Actually, I’ve got someone here who’s been worried about you,” Stark said.

Barton’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, tracking over the rest of the team. Steve followed his gaze. Besides Tony in his red and gold suit there were four others: Thor had returned, there was a kid in head to toe red and blue, another guy in head to toe black, another with metal fucking wings, and that was it.

Who was Stark talking about?

“Bullshit. Whoever it is, I’m not going back. No one’s gonna control us, ever again.”

“So, you know what I learned in New York? Besides the fact that you can’t make a team with 6 strangers? Having a guy up high is pretty damn useful.”

“Stark,” Steve said warningly. He had no idea where Stark was going with this but the man was all over the place and Steve was feeling absolutely unbalanced. A quick look to the others assured him that he wasn’t the only one and maybe they really should be getting out of here sooner rather than later.

Not that he gave Starks comment about rabid dogs any credibility, but he well remembered the incident on the helicarrier just before New York, how quickly things had devolved. And maybe that had been Loki….

And maybe it hadn’t.

“Of course, Hawkeye was dead. So we upgraded to the better model.”

Clint’s eyes went wide and his grip on his bow tightened, from the faint creaks of leather and other materials that probably only Steve or Winter could hear.

“Tell me you fucking didn’t.” Clint’s tone was flat, dead. It made a shiver crawl down Steve’s spine as he stared between them, confused.

Why would Clint be so upset about being replaced? What had he  _ really _ cared about being on a superhero team?

Another man stepped around a corner, another archer who looked way too familiar for Steve’s liking, a smirk on his face.

“Good to see you, little brother.”

“Barney,” Clint snarled, his bow unwavering as it homed in on the newcomer.

“Guess they know quality when they see it, seeing as they traded in one Barton for the better one,” Barney said.

“Shut up you fucking piece of shit. It's all your fault,” Clint choked. Steve was alarmed to note that Clint’s hands were shaking.

Clint’s brother held up his hands but the smirk on his face didn’t diminish.

“What did you do?” Steve demanded.

“He’s how HYDRA got their hands on me,” Clint growled. “My own brother, sold me out.”

“It wasn’t like that –“ Barney started. An arrow whizzed by his ear and embedded in the wall behind him.

Despite shaking hands, Clint had another arrow nocked and ready before anyone had time to register the first one hitting the wall.

“The fuck it wasn’t,” Clint snapped.

“Hey, leash your dogs!” Stark shouted at Steve, face plate coming down.

“They’re not rabid animals,” Steve bit out. “If you ask me, it sounds like he deserves to become a pincushion. And  _ you  _ aligned with him.”

“Is this a fight?” The red and blue kid said, speaking for the first time - and Christ, he really was a kid - his head swinging from one of his teammates to another. “Are we fighting now?”

Winter had pulled blades from among his arsenal of many and even Nat was ready to go. The guy in black stayed silent, as he had the entire time but both Thor and the man with the wings were frowning.

“Tony, I gotta say, this is a bad idea,” the guy with the wings said.

“Sam – “

“No, Captain America’s right. We’re after the same thing here, and they’re not responsible for what they were made to do. They’re fighting back. They should be allowed to.” Sam gave Clint’s brother a glare. “And I can’t say I ever liked this guy, but I put up with him cause he brought something to the team. If what Hawkeye says is true… maybe we should reconsider that.”

“Fuck that,” Clint spat. “ _ If  _ what I said is true?  _ If _ ?” he laughed harshly and Steve winced.

“I think, perhaps, it would be wise if we mighty warriors retreated for the time being, and let cooler heads prevail,” Thor said. “Though we had failed at New York, it was an honor to fight at your side, Steven Rogers. And if you think these be worthy of a second chance, then I shall take your word for it.”

Thor lead the way and, one by one, the others followed. Stark was the last to leave, dragging a protesting Barney none too gently along with him.

They were well out of sight but neither Winter, Clint nor Nat relaxed. Hell, Steve was on edge as well. They needed to get out of here, back to safety.

They needed regain their equilibrium.

Steve stepped over to Clint who had finally lowered the bow but was now shaking all over. He stepped back when Steve reached for him, turned on his heel and stalked off.

“Let’s get the hell outta here,” Clint shot over his shoulder.

Steve couldn’t agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this happened.
> 
> when i first started this fic, the rest of the avengers were NOT going to be in it at all. And yet it happened. i actually wrote chunks of this chapter probably when i still was only 5 or 6 chapters in - but i'm actually glad that it did. i think it adds more to the story and we'll be seeing them or at least some of them, again.
> 
> also, i have no idea exactly how prevalent Tokyo Tower getting destroyed/attacked is in anime, but it seemed to have happened all the time in the ones i watched (if they took place in modern day japan anyway)


	12. Powerless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's reeling from the encounter and Steve's just trying to find solid ground...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again i lament the fact that i make chapter titles - this one is taken from something Nat says in the chapter, but could probably be applied to lots of this fic so... eh, it still works, right?

They didn’t leave straight away.

As soon as Clint turned, his eyes fell upon the decimated HYDRA base again, his steps faltered, and Winter was beside him in an instant, murmuring. With a jerky nod, the two of them headed inside what was now, very obviously, a burning building.

Steve blinked. “What are you - ? This place is a husk, there’s nothing left to worry about.” He reached for Winter and Winter growled, whipping his head around, hair flying when he did.

“You think Stark made sure the chair was broken beyond repair? You think we should trust anything but our own eyes?” Winter snapped. “HYDRA told me you were dead. The world tried to convince me of that too, and yet here you are, alive and well.”

Stepping back, Steve blew out a breath, looking from Winter to Clint and back again. Clint’s eyes were haunted and Steve sighed. As much as he wanted to put space between them and this place, Winter was right. Neither of them would rest easy unless they knew  _ for sure. _

“Okay,” Steve said softly.

They lingered longer than Steve thought wise, Nat and he keeping an eye out as Winter and Clint entered the rubble and didn’t emerge for a good, long time. Instead of the relief he expected, the celebration they’d had after Detroit, after Vancouver, the pair of them were subdued.

They made their way back across the field to the hidden jet, Clint more tense and quieter than Steve had ever heard him and he put a hand on Winter's arm, halting him briefly. “Is he okay?”

Winter jerked his arm away but didn’t snap at Steve. He stared after Clint instead. “No,” he said flatly.

“Is what he says happened true?” Steve asked. Not because he doubted Clint. But because HYDRA had fucked with them both and their memories so badly that who knew?

Winter paused. “I... Don't remember. Vague feelings of... Of betrayal?” His brows were furrowed and his hair swung forward to hide his face. Something Steve was starting to notice he did more and more – a way to hide his feelings? His uncertainties and fears? Steve wasn’t sure.

Nat trailed after Clint closer than he and Winter, but Clint shrugged her off.

They reached the quinjet and Clint stormed about the cabin, being more careless with his bow than Steve had ever seen and even Winter and Nat were startled. 

“We're going to Omsk,” he declared, heading for the cabin.

“No,” Nat said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not like this. Stand down Clint.”

He growled at her; his hands clenched into fists.

“Stand. Down.” Her voice was firm, unyielding. Clint punched the locker beside her face, denting it badly but she didn’t even flinch. Steve watched, ready to intervene. Winter shoved past Steve, grabbed Clint’s arm and yanked him away from Nat,  jerking  him around and slamming Clint into the wall on the other side of the jet, the lockers behind Clint crumpling beneath him.

They stood silent, tense jaws and shifting eyebrows until Clint broke and looked away. He shrugged Winter off then left the jet.

“Clint – “ Steve said, starting to follow him, thinking it would be a bad idea to let a pissed off assassin loose in the city by himself.

The glare Clint tossed his way stopped Steve in his tracks.

“Calm your pits, cap. I ain’t going far, I just need some goddamned space,” Clint snarled.

In seconds, it was only Steve, Nat and Winter on the jet, the stillness almost stifling. Steve could understand wholeheartedly why Clint needed some space. He just wasn’t sure he liked it. He sighed, ran a hand over his face and tried to settle onto a bench. With tensions running high and they apparently not going anywhere any time soon, Steve was at a loss for what to do. There was no gym to beat off the excess energy or frustrations, no book or tv to occupy his mind.

Something small landed on the bench next to him and he looked over to find an unopened pack of cards and Nat swinging a leg over the bench to straddle it, a challenging smirk on her face.

Cards. Sure, Steve could do cards, though he was suddenly certain they held no games in common.

Still, it would most definitely pass the time.

“ Winter, do you –“ Steve turned only to find the door between the cabin and rest of the jet, Winter gone.

Immediately, it occurred to Steve that  _ both  _ of them had received a shock, but Winter had been so  _ quiet  _ about it that Steve’s attention had been drawn over to Clint.

He made to stand but Nat’s hand delicately circled his wrist and lightly tugged, only letting go when he obeyed the tug, small red marks left behind when she did.

“Don’t,” she said softly.

“But –“ Steve protested.

“I know,” she said. “It hurts to feel powerless, to be unable to help those you most wish to. I’ve been there. We all have, and we’ll all be there again. Sometimes, a person just need a little space before they can accept comfort.” She looked at him, eyes boring into his soul and Steve… Steve understood.

Maybe he had more in common with them than he’d thought.

* * *

Sleeping on the quinjet wasn’t comfortable in the first place, and if you were as big as Steve, it was nigh impossible. When you were as on edge as Steve was, well, he was about ready to give it up as a lost cause when Clint finally climbed back aboard the jet.

He moved quietly, wedging himself into a corner and wrapping his arms around himself, flinching whenever one of the others made a noise ,  but otherwise not acknowledging anyone else’s existence .

Steve stood, dragging the spare blankets he’d found in one of the fucked up lockers, and draped it over Clint wordlessly. Clint stared down at the blanket for a long, long moment before he untangled his limbs enough to pull it around himself properly, then hid his face within the folds of it.

It was a clear dismissal if Steve had ever seen one and he returned to his own bench and his own blanket, the relief of having Clint close by and safe, apparently enough to lull Steve into a  _ slightly  _ more restful sleep.

It didn’t last long.

Clint woke less than an hour later, screaming. The shrill sound of it jolted Steve awake. His heart pounded as he rushed to be by Clint’s side. In the weeks he’d been with them, Clint never screamed, not like this, but today had been a shock for him, surely dragging memories possibly left forgotten into the light.

Flailing, Clint surged upward, his head slamming into Steve’s chin, knocking him back for a second before he could wrap his arms around Clint’s, pinning them down so he couldn’t hurt anyone else or himself.

Hands yanked at Steve, voices shouted and Clint continued to scream and fight.

“Are you insane?” Nat hissed at Steve, prying his fingers off Clint even as Winter grabbed Steve’s collar and  _ pulled.  _ “You really think  _ restraining _ him is the best call right now?”

Steve fell to the floor as Winter abruptly let go of him, feeling ashamed that he’d likely contributed to whatever nightmare Clint was reliving.

“I’m sorry,” Steve babbled, crawling back towards where Clint was curled up on the deck, sobbing. Nat settled against the wall, urging clint to lay his head on her lap. She ran her hand through his hair as Clint shook, a soft hum filling the air. “I’m sorry –“

“Don’t,” Winter said, stopping Steve with a hand on his shoulder. It was firm, but not harsh, Winter looking at him sadly. “There is not much you can do for Hawk when he’s like this.”

Steve shoved himself up against the lockers on the opposite side of the jet, staring at Nat soothing Clint through his sobs, soothing him back to sleep, a tuneless croon that teased at the edge of even Steve’s hearing.

Winter didn’t go near him either, settling into a guard position near the ramp instead. Steve shouldn’t feel so relieved that he wasn’t the only one relegated to being useless; Clint was hurting, and there was nothing he could do to help.

There was no way Steve would be falling back asleep now, worry and guilt warring inside him, unsettled by how deeply undone Clint had become. He stared, and he watched Clint’s ragged breathing till it settled into something even… and finally, he stood, going into the cabin to be away from the others, to be alone with his thoughts.

Steve wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the cabin before the doors hissed open. The sun was rising but Clint had come back inside the quinjet fairly late, and Steve hadn’t had a clock to read when Clint’s nightmares had woken them all.

Before Steve could guess who it was, Clint spun Steve's chair around and straddled him.

The manic look in his eyes was back but it held a different note to it, a desperate, pleading one.

Clint ducked forward to lock their lips in a bruising kiss with no preamble, no words, rocking down on Steve's lap and taking his breath away. His hands came up instinctively to grasp Clint's hips. He wasn't wearing much, a t-shirt and his tac pants, feet bare.  Clint must have taken everything else off after Steve had come to hide in the cabin of the jet.

Fingers slipped under Steve’s shirt, not far, just enough to slide low over his stomach. Steve’s muscles jumped and he gasped into Clint’s mouth. Clint shifted, grinding down on Steve’s cock.

It didn’t take long for him to get hard and Clint chuckled, biting at Steve’s lips, then his jaw, then stood. Steve reached for Clint but Clint batted his hands away with a grin. He dragged his shirt over his chest, flinging it behind him while Steve watched, entranced at the expanse of skin, the play of muscles.

Clint shucked the last of his clothes, dropping down on his knees before Steve, slowly opening Steve's pants. Steve groaned when his cock was released and groaned again when Clint took him into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Steve breathed

Clint hummed and Steve cursed again, becoming vaguely aware of a slick sound. He dragged open his eyes to find Clint's closed, one arm stretching behind him, flexing beautifully, shifting in time with the sound and the way his head bobbed over Steve.

Soon, Clint was climbing back into Steve's lap. “Wanna feel you, Steve,” he said, lowering himself onto Steve's cock without waiting for an answer. What could Steve really say? He groaned instead. And wished he'd taken off the rest of his clothes so he could feel Clint’s skin against his own. 

Setting a relentless pace, Clint rose up and dropped down, hard and fast and  _ tight.  _ Steve gave himself over to Clint, his hands reaching for Clint’s hips, curling around the one with the small arrow tattoo. It was already faded since that first time he’d seen it. Clint’s healing factor slowly taking it away from him.

Steve idly wondered how deeply Clint had gotten it done, if he’d gone somewhere or if he’d done it himself, risking the wrath of his HYDRA keepers. Wondered if he wanted to keep it, if he’d renew it or forget about it completely.

But these thoughts were quickly chased off by the pretty little sounds Clint made, driving himself down on Steve’s cock, his hands resting on Steve’s shoulders for leverage, fingers clenching and unclenching almost painfully.

Surging upward, Steve captured Clint’s head in a kiss, one hand going up to tangle in the growing short hairs at the base of Clint’s neck, pulling him in. Breath mingling, taking turns at delving into the others mouth, Steve snapped his hips up into Clint and swallowed Clint’s cry. Clint’s cock - hard and hot and leaking - brushed Steve’s abs like lightning and Clint mewled, breathlessly as their kiss broke. He buried his face into Steve’s neck and sucked and bit, grinding down into Steve’s lap.

“Jesus,” Steve breathed, throwing his head back, Clint taking advantage of the exposure. His cock drove relentlessly upward into tight, slick heat, whimpered as Clint clenched around him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Clint babbled into Steve’s skin. “God, you feel good inside me…”

Steve whimpered again, the edge coming too close, his skin on fire with every slide, every thrust, every little nip along his throat.

“Could make you a collar not even Winter will be upset by,” Clint whispered into his skin, sucking a bruise just under Steve’s jaw. “Too bad it’ll be gone so quick.”

Clint smirked - Steve could feel the curving lips against his skin when he groaned.

“Yeah, knew you liked that – oh fuck,” Clint arched back, Steve’s hand falling away from his neck, Clint’s body bowing so gracefully above Steve he thought he would die.

Pushing down harder, faster, Clint rode Steve with desperation, driving Steve mad with every bounce, every soft – and not so soft – noise he made. Steve ached and throbbed as he thrust upwards, leaning forward to mouth at Clint’s skin, tasting sweat and something wholly Clint. Steve’s hands slid around to Clint’s ass and pulled him in, fingers kneading, pushing and pulling Clint along his cock.

Above him, Clint arched further with a groan and Steve glanced up to see Clint’s arms beautifully stretched up to the low ceiling of the cabin, giving him new leverage, a new angle to push down on Steve, on Steve’s cock.

“Fuck,” Clint panted. His skin was flushed and his mouth had dropped open only to close again on another moan, biting his lip when Steve thrust deep. “Right there, Jesus fucking Christ, uuuunnnnngggg…..”

Steve gasped as Clint clenched down on him again and his eyes shot downward, to watch his cock swallowed up by Clint’s hole, to lick his lips at the sight of Clint’s dick, hard and leaking, rubbing between them.

With Clint bent the way he was, Steve had no problem leaning in and taking the head of Clint’s cock in his mouth. He played with it, teasing the tip, then sucking hard, feeling it twitch in his mouth.

A hand landed in his hair and Clint jerked up into his mouth and down onto Steve’s cock once, twice, three times before he came with a shout. Steve’s eyes rolled back as he swallowed it down and came in Clint’s ass, his fingers squeezing hard into Clint’s flesh.

Clint slumped down, forcing his dick out of Steve’s mouth, forcing Steve to lean back into the chair. Clint shifted and Steve groaned, throwing his head back as he continued to come.

“Yeah, that’s it baby, give it allllll to me,” Clint murmured, his hands sliding around Steve’s neck. The kiss was slow and gentle as he continued to rock down on Steve, milking his softening cock.

Steve stared up at Clint near reverently, the warm kiss lasting long after he was completely spent, long after he’d slipped out of Clint. Clint curled up on Steve and fell asleep, face mashed into Steve’s chest, still buck naked while Steve was still 100 percent dressed.

Except for his dick.

Which he couldn’t even maneuver around Clint to put away. All of that was… a little uncomfortable, he had to say, doubly so with his pants wet with lube and come.

Yet Steve was reluctant to move Clint off of him, instead running a hand up and down Clint’s spine. He shifted the tiniest bit get a little more comfortable and Clint grumbled sleepily before Steve settled.

Exhaustion - mental, physical and emotional – pulled Steve down after him, the comfort of having someone in his arms, the warmth of it… god, he’d fallen for Bucky long ago, had once loved Peggy deeply enough to follow her lead, had developed feelings he thought unrequited for Nat over these past two years… he hadn’t expected to fall for Bucky all over again as Winter, or to already feel so much for Clint in this short frame of time.

They’d all gone through so much and Steve… Steve just wanted to protect them, keep them from suffering more.

But with his track record, could he really believe he’d be able to?

No.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to damn well try.


	13. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too much downtime with everyone feeling a little off is driving Steve crazy, but Nat has some ideas on how to kill the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be focused on Steve and Nat, because i felt like Nat wasn't getting enough screen time and then, of course, Clint and Bucky barged their way in... needy little....
> 
> also also also... i've said this before and i'll say it again, writing smut feels like its actually getting harder. i don't know if it's because i've been reading the wrong (right?) things and comparing myself to them or what...

They stayed till Clint was a little steadier.

It took another day and another night for that to happen.

Nat could have flown the jet,  of course, but Clint was better at it and, Steve realized, he always took control of their destination. He drove the car, he flew the jet, he mapped out the plan and chose their next stop. He took input, occasionally, but he needed to be behind the wheel, so to speak.

Nat didn’t argue it, so neither did Steve. Whatever they needed to feel in control… to feel safe…

Steve thought he could understand that.

The day of waiting was restless, even more formless than the day before had been. Cards could no longer hold Steve’s attention, not when he was all too aware of the pain in Clint and Winter.

Steve found himself pacing the limited space till Winter growled at him to stop, but of course that didn’t stop his jittering about, just confined it to his bench. He pulled out his Shield, and stared at it. The paint was still there but so badly damaged – it was like a metaphor for Steve himself.

Could he even be Captain America anymore? He was tarnished, like his shield. Had lost his way, his surety. He picked at the paint, scraping his fingernails over it until Clint came over and slapped his hand down, trapping it into place.

“That is the most  _ obnoxious _ noise,” he snapped, before stalking off the jet again. This time, Winter followed, glaring at Steve on his way past, and Steve sighed in frustration before dropping his head against the damaged lockers.

Nat dropped bonelessly onto the bench next to him.

“I’m not in the mood for cards,” Steve said, closing his eyes.

“No, but you  _ do  _ need a distraction,” Nat said. His eyes opened as the Shield was slid out of his grip and carelessly tossed aside, the metallic clang of it hitting the deck plating reverberating through the jet.

Steve shuddered at the sound, wanted to protest the disrespect to the shield – but hadn’t he disrespected it by using it in service of the bad guys?

He’d had choice, unlike the others, unlike Nat and Clint and Winter. He’d  _ chosen  _ to work for SHIELD, and they’d been the bad guys all along, rotted from within – because he’d captured Zola like asked, instead of killing him.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Nat murmured into his ear.

He swung about on the bench, crowding her against the dented lockers, hovered his lips over hers. “Oh yeah? How do you plan to fix that?”

Nat moved like lightening and Steve found himself suddenly on the deck on his back, staring up at her breathlessly. He’d always loved how quick and fluid she was, how she used that against her bigger and stronger opponents.

Against him, taking control of the moment.

Her fingers slid up under his shirt as she purred against his lips, leaving trails of fire behind. He arched up, stretched to meet her lips with his and she smiled, backing off so he couldn’t reach her. He whined and reached for her, but Nat tsked at him and sent him a look that had Steve slapping his hands back down to the deck again.

Chuckling, Nat rocked downward, teasingly along his rapidly hardening cock.

“Hmm… you love submitting to me, don’t you, Rogers?” her voice was husky, delighted, sending thrills through him because she wasn’t wrong. She sat up fully, her fingers catching at the bottom of her shirt and slowly dragging it up and off, exposing all of her creamy skin except where her bra covered her breasts.

His fingers twitched with the need to get his hands on her, his lips; to taste her, every inch of sweating skin, to lick and suck between her thighs, to make her writhe on his tongue and call his name.

Her hand slowly slid down over herself, caressing lightly, pausing to circle a nipple, her tongue daring out of her open lips. Her fingers continued to draw tantalizing circles on the way down, down, down, till her fingertips disappeared into her pants and she gave a sudden, sharp gasp, eyes closing and hips jerking.

“Nat, please, let me…”

Her eyes popped open. “Let you what? Get me off?” her other hand came down, popped open her pants and pulled down the zipper, spreading the jeans open wide so he could see her fingers rubbing into dark curls.

Steve watched avidly as her fingers moved relentlessly against her own clit, her hips and stomach rolling into the touch, hypnotizing him with her fluidity, the pleasure filling her face, her lips slightly parted, a blush extending downwards over her beautiful skin.

“Please,” he begged again.

“Pease, what?” she purred. “Use your words, Steve.”

“Let me do that for you,” he said. “Let me bring you pleasure, make your body  _ sing _ –“

“Hmmm….” Nat stared down at him. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

She stood up and he whined at the loss of contact before he could stop himself. She paused, then took her damn sweet time pulling off her pants, leaving her in panties and bra. They were bright red, but nothing fancy – no lace, or florals – but shaped exactly perfectly to accentuate her curves  _ just right _ .

Grinning, Nat joined him on the floor and crawled up the length of his body, nipping and sucking at him through his clothes, tantalizing him with the not there burn of her lips before she reached the skin of his throat and he gasped at the first touch of her mouth to his flesh. She nibbled her way up to the lobe of his ear and sucked on it, teeth pulling just a little too harshly. It still felt good, so good, and Steve thrust up into nothing, his fingers gouging into the deck to keep from reaching for her when she clearly wanted him not to touch – yet.

“Please,” he asked again, his voice rough and panting.

She hummed again, straightened, then settled above his face, bracing her hands on the benches on either side of them. “Go on, then. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Steve stared up at her, a vision, an angel, hovering above him, the front of her panties already damp and just within reach. He nuzzled forward, breathing her in, eyes fluttering shut as her scent washed over him. He mouthed over the wet spot, tongue darting out to taste, to slide along the soft texture, to dip inwards, forwards before dragging upwards.

Sighing blissfully, she rolled forward, pressing into his mouth and tongue. “Use your hands,” she ordered and Steve wasted no time, hands already on her thighs, each touch a fiery, burning thing, sliding up and toying with the legs of her panties. “Leave them on.”

Groaning, Steve used a thumb to slip the panties to the side, letting his tongue touch her directly, dip inside her, taste her. The other hand slid behind her to urge Nat forward, to move –

And she did, moaning softly.

Nat rode his face, her body stretching languidly above him. Her juices tingled on his tongue, his lips going numb and clumsy from contact. But she had no complaints. She let go of the benches, arching so gracefully above him. Nat’s hands reached down, trailing over her body slowly once more, pinching her nipples briefly as her hips rolled into his mouth again and again.

A hand fell onto his head, first gently, then grabbing fistfuls of his hair in a painful grip, yanking him into her, urging the pace faster, deeper. Steve groaned doubling his efforts with his tongue, his fingers gripping her ass and pulling her close. His hips thrust up, into nothing, his cock painfully hard and she laughed lightly, still tugging. 

“That’s it, Rogers,” she moaned around her laugh, “There you go, Steve. Make me come.”

Suddenly she gasped and surged downwards hard, ending on a moan and his eyes flew up from between her thighs, falling on the large, calloused hands that had encircled her breasts, that rolled and pinched her nipples through the fabric of her brilliantly red bra, at the blonde head of hair nuzzling into her neck, below her jaw as she threw her head back.

“Ah, Clint,” she groaned. She bit down on her lip, her fingers flexing in Steve’s hair on a whimper when Clint’s hands shifted, slipping under her bra and his lips trailing upward.

Pulling back, Clint smirked down at Steve over Nat’s shoulder. “Enjoying yourself down there? Nat certainly sounds like she is,” he said. “Does he deserve a reward, Nat?”

Steve’s eyes rolled up into his head at the idea of a reward, bucking up against the sudden weight pinning him down to the deck. He groaned at the power behind that, the power that held him down so effortlessly. He thrust his tongue into Nat, then dragged it up, wiggling it against her clit, repeating the motion, again and again, reveling in the gasping sounds she made.

“Yes,” she panted. “Steve’s doing so well, he does –  _ oh, oooooh _ ! – does deserve a reward. Why…unghhh… why don’t you…” she trailed off on another moan, moving erratically against Steve’s mouth and tongue.

Pride filled him, watching her come undone above him, coming on top of him, tasting her in his mouth while Clint still played with her breasts, pressing soft, gentle kisses along her neck.

Steve was so into it, into the gorgeous sounds she made, into watching Clint’s lips and hands moving over her like he was playing an instrument, that the wet mouth around his cock came as a complete surprise and Steve’s mouth fell open, fell away for a shout. He couldn’t help himself as he shuddered and his eyes fluttered on a moan.

Fuck, but that felt so good…

“Oh, no, Steve,” Nat said with a smirk. “I didn’t say you could stop. Now, be a good boy –“ one of her hands let go of his hair and slid down his face, tracing a path down to his lips and pulling his bottom lip out, dragging it out lightly before letting it go. “- and finish your task, or your reward will go away.”

She yanked him back, pulling hard on his hair and Steve groaned at the sharp pricks of pleasure he derived from that before diving back into her, doing his best to concentrate on bringing her to orgasm, even as Winter – it had to be Winter – bobbed up and down on his cock, hair trailing lightly along his hard shaft.

Other than his cock, Steve was once more nearly fully clothed while they were not and he whined at being confined, unable to feel flesh against every inch of his skin.

Nat shuddered, suddenly, grinding down hard and erratically against him, her fingers trembling, her gasps turning sharp and loud, Clint bracing her as she arched back with a cry, then slumped against him, breathing hard, hips twitching as Steve’s tongue fucked her through the orgasm and into another.

With a humming, pleased sigh, she rolled to her feet, legs tangled around him as she fetched up against the bench. She twisted, half on the bench, half not, facing Clint, dragging him forward into a hot kiss. Steve could see he was hard against his pants and suddenly, all he wanted was to get his mouth on Clint’s cock.

And come in Winter’s mouth.

It wasn’t asking too much, was it?

Steve shifted, hands drifting towards Clint slowly, carefully watching Natasha for a sign, any sign. They continued to kiss, teasing Steve with glimpses of tongues. She showed no sign of having seen Steve moving, gave him no clue, but then each of his hands were snagged - one by Clint and one by Nat – placing them right over Clint’s groin. Clint groaned at the contact and thrust into Steve’s hands as Steve splayed his fingers along the hard ridge of Clint’s cock, gripping it, teasing it through the pants.

Neither Clint nor Nat broke their kiss, but Steve took this as encouragement enough, pausing only to gasp at a particularly lovely twist of Winter’s tongue around the head of his cock. Fumbling, feeling everything coming at him in a rush, Steve got Clint’s pants open and urged him to slide into his mouth.

Steve lost himself then, to the feel of Winter deep throating him, to the rough thrusts of Clint’s cock, in the taste of Clint mingling with Nat’s so deliciously.

Need and fire ran through him, ramping up and spiraling higher until he burst, stiffening as he spilled in Winter’s mouth, as Clint used his hard, still kissing Nat.

The weight on Steve shifted, knees bracketed him in and Winter’s head dropped, barely brushing against Clint’s shoulder. Steve couldn’t see him, couldn’t see what Winter was doing, but he could hear the wet sounds, the breathless pants, knew that Winter had his own dick in hand, could imagine it sliding through his fingers, along his palm, how it felt…

Steve’s dick twitched and he dug his fingers into Clint’s thighs, encouraging him harder, deeper, faster –

And then Clint spilled, coming in Steve’s mouth and he swallowed around his cock, swallowing down as much as he could. When Clint pulled away, flopping down on the bench next to Nat, Nat looked down at him with a smug grin.

“Look at you, you dirty boy,” she purred. “I think someone needs to clean you up a bit.” Steve followed her gaze toward Winter, no longer hidden by Clint, and in a much better mood judging by the expression on his face, the pure want, the hunger as he looked at Steve.

“I wanna mess him up more,” Winter grunted, his voice rough as he knelt over Steve, his hand flying over his cock.

“Be my guest,” Nat purred. Clint giggled beside her but Steve couldn’t take his eyes off Winter, of Winter kneewalking closer to Steve’s face, still jerking his cock in his half undone pants. Steve licked his lips in anticipation and was rewarded when stripes of come landed in his mouth and on his lips, his cheeks – probably his hair too.

Steve moaned at the taste of all three of them in his mouth, then moaned again as Winter slid the head of his cock along Steve’s lips. He sucked it in, licking Winter’s cock clean and heard a breathy sound above him.

Seconds later, when Winter drew back, he pulled Steve up by his shirt and kissed him. Other hands pulled at him, and they all took turns kissing Steve who was turning into a boneless lump of sated happiness. He didn’t want to move, or lose this moment to the realities that were coming, but eventually, the harsh press of a bench against his back and the cold deck of the floor invaded and he sighed.

Clint grimaced as he stood, pulling Steve up with him, then Nat. Winter stood without waiting for assistance.

“Yeah,” he said, pressing his hands into his back and leaning backwards to crack it. “Just cause we heal up fast, don’t mean that’s a very comfortable place to be.” Clint grinned. “But it sure was fun.”

Steve couldn’t argue that, any of it.


	14. Mark You as Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comforts Winter, Clint's got a funny way of apologizing, and all around, it's just a big ol' cuddle fest that leaves Steve with hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has some angst but also more fluffy than it knows what to do with. th e whole chapter was an accident. a snippet of a single scene i had no idea where it belonged until suddenly it said, "hey, put me there, yeah, between those chapters you already wrote. that's it, perfect."
> 
> Also, you might notice now that my stories are locked. someones making apps that are accessing all the work on ao3 and other fanfiction sites without permission. I can almost see it as okay, it's just an interface, but one in particular was making people pay for content that was already free. thats not okay with me.
> 
> however, if the stories are locked, the apps can't see them. i debated about it, cause i know i have anon readers. I may change it back again in the future when all the hullabloo dies down.

That night, Winter ripped the benches out of the jet, tossing them aside with a clatter, and Nat created a nest, a bed of blankets, in the space that had opened on the floor. She settled back into the blankets, drawing Clint in with her and stared at Steve pointedly. Clint turned his head, held out his hand and Steve stumbled into the pile.

Wrapping himself around Clint and Nat, Steve listened for Winter to return, for the ramp to shut, for clothes to rustle before he slid in behind Steve, his metal fingers flexing over Steve’s hips, his forehead pressed into Steve’s shoulders. Finally, trapped between them, the edge taken off earlier,  _ knowing  _ that Clint was more settled then he’d been, that he  _ wanted  _ them around now, helped Steve to drift to sleep.

He dreamed of the chair, of Zola and Pierce, of broken bodies spread at the feet of the weapons they’d made – Clint and Winter and Nat and who knew how many more just like them? Then he dreamt of the other three, themselves broken and bleeding out – at Tony’s hand, the hands of the other new Avengers – seen as a threat while Steve was left alive to mourn them, left alone and bereft –

Steve jerked awake with a harsh gasp, to the feel of Winters fingers, the metal ones, grasping almost too tightly on his hips. There was a soft sound at his back, harsh breathing, and he knew Winter was also awake.

Who had woken who?

Did it matter?

Nat and Clint still slept, so Steve remained quiet as he carefully rolled over. Winter’s eyes were staring into nothing as Steve cupped his face. “Winter?” he asked gently.

“I killed Howard,” Winter said and Steve closed his eyes, leaning forward to touch Winters forehead with his, guilt pooling in his gut for ignoring that Winter had also had some very unwelcome news the day before.

After Barney had appeared, Winters quiet pain had been drowned out by Clint’s.

“It wasn’t you, wasn’t your fault,” Steve whispered. Winter didn’t seem to hear him, lost in memories, in misery.

“What if he's right? The son of Howard. What if... What if we  _ are _ irredeemable?”

Steve's thoughts flashed to Winter’s all too frozen demeanor, an echo of that first time they’d fought, as he’d snapped the neck of that guard under Steve's gaze and he barely repressed a shudder.

“ I don’t believe that,” Steve said adamantly.

“You’re a fool,” Winter bit out. “Always were. A stubborn fool.”

“Then you know I ain’t giving up on you,” Steve said. “Or them.”

“Why do you care? I’m not the man you knew and I never will be again.” Despite his words, despite the harshness of the tone, Winter’s fingers only tightened, unwilling or unable to let go. “I waited for you…” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, eyes flooding. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“It hurt, Stevie, so fucking much,” Winter’s voice was lost, distant and Steve’s heart clenched and his throat constricted painfully. He pulled Winter close, one arm tucked up in the small of his back, the other over his head, petting the hair that Steve had gotten used to far faster than he’d thought he would. “You came for me before, saved me against every odd. Everyone told me to give up, to stop hoping for you – even Clint thought it would be kinder if I just believed you were gone, but I never could. They had to wipe you from my mind and even then, I still waited – I just couldn’t remember  _ why.” _

Steve ached with every word, each one a stab to his heart. Everything Winter had been through was his fault. If only he’d gone after him, if only he’d killed Zola when he had the chance, if only –

So many if only’s and no way to know which would have been the right one to follow, the right thread that would have pulled everything apart and brought his Bucky back home, safe and sound. Steve couldn’t change the past, but he sure as hell could plan for the future and Steve wouldn’t ever let anyone get their hands on Winter – or Nat and Clint – ever again.

He clutched Winter closer, tried to soothe him even as Steve felt unsettled and upset himself. But this was healing, right? This would help, wouldn’t it?

Winter cried into Steve’s shoulder, the sound all too quiet compared to Clint’s sobs the day before, only the shaking of the body against his betraying Winter. Heat pressed up against Steve’s back as he comforted Winter, arms slid over his body to cradle him close, a nose nuzzled into his back and he suddenly knew the other two weren’t quite as asleep as he’d thought they were, as they gave their own, silent comfort.

Steve didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke, Winter had moved behind him, Nat curled into him like a small kitten and Clint –

Clint was sitting against the other wall, Steve’s shield in his hands and Steve felt his stomach lurch in confusion. There’s… paint, all over Clint, all over the deck, and he looked up suddenly, obviously feeling Steve’s gaze on him as Steve sat up, or maybe he heard Steve sitting up.

He grinned at Steve. “I’m not quite done, but what do you think?” he asked, turning the shield up and around for Steve to see.

The shield had been stripped of all it’s old paint, the red white and blue replaced by 2 shades of purple and a ring of white – in the shape of a target that looked itchingly familiar. That was the background for the giant black star – reminiscent of the red one on Winter’s shoulder – bigger than the star that had used to be there, with the points intertwining over and under the circles of the target.  In the center was Nat’s hourglass.

He grinned up at them. “Now you can carry a piece of all of us into battle. What do you think?”

“He's laying claim to you, to all of us,” Nat said, smiling fondly at Clint while she leaned on Steve.

“It’s…” Steve stared at Clint, a smile tugging at his lips. “I love it, Clint.” It made something inside Steve wriggle happily, to see their colors, their symbols, all over something of his. It wasn’t the collar, but it said he was theirs just as clearly.

And he was, wasn’t he? Winter may have kidnapped him to start with, but Steve had chosen to be with them willingly, to help them in their quest to find peace. He only hoped they could find it.

A sound beside him made Steve turn, to find Winter beside him, forward enough that when Steve turned at the movement beside him, Steve could see that Winter was frowning and that his hand had come up over his arm, covering the red star on his shoulder.

“I don’t want it,” Winter blurted suddenly. “This. It feels… like a brand, like they still own me.” Winter looked around the jet wildly, eyes wide and distant and Steve’s breath caught. Then Winters fingers started clawing at the metal shoulder, at the star. “I want it off,” he choked, his already wild eyes filling with tears.

The shield clattered to the deck with a ring as Clint scrambled to Winter’s side, even as Steve hesitatingly took Winter’s hand, pulling it away from his shoulder. Winter let him, not struggling and Steve let out a sigh of relief.

“Hey, hey, Winter, shhhh…” Clint said, holding up a paintbrush. “Already ahead of you. What do you want? Could make it a different color, could cover it up completely, can paint the same designs as I just did Steve’s shield, anything  _ you  _ want.”

Winter licked his lips, eyes darting from Clint to Steve, to Nat, to the shield that finally settled onto the floor.

“It’s just paint,” Nat said. “You can always change your mind, or do something different with it later – like my hair.” Winters gaze drifted to her hair, obviously thinking.

“I can… yeah… that’s…” he nodded jerkily. “I want… I want that,” he said, pointing at the Shield.

Clint grinned. “Then we can do that,” he said, bounding to his feet and bringing over both the paint – where had he gotten all the paint? Was that standard field issue for the jet supplies or had Clint gone out while they were sleeping? – and Steve’s shield, handling it carefully to avoid smudging the paint as it dried.

Winter stared down at the shield as Steve held it, Clint already dipping his brushes into the paint and starting on Winter’s arm.

“It looks done to me,” Steve said, turning it this way and that.

“Still gotta seal it, so the paint doesn’t chip off too fast,” Clint said idly. “Now Winter? Don’t move too much. I gotta do this carefully – because we don’t want the paint to interfere with the movement of your arm.”

Winter nodded and Steve and Nat watched, Nat playing with Winter’s hair the whole while – originally, to keep it out of Clint’s way but then Steve saw how it soothed her. Winter, in the meantime, relaxed bit by bit with each stroke of Clint’s brush, covering up the legacy he’d been left by HYDRA and the Russians and who knew who else that Steve hadn’t gotten an accounting of.

It took Clint all morning to paint Winter’s arm but by the time he’d finished the first coating, Winter was smiling, his hair plaited into braids, keeping it from falling into his face.

And Steve breathed a sigh of relief. It was… the whole morning had been… almost domestic.

Perfect.

A hint of what they could have when everything was done. And Steve was feeling the stirrings of  _ real _ hope for that, for the future –  _ their  _ future - and not just wishful thinking.

It was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this chapters a little shorter than the others AND it was longer between updates then i've been doing - thats cause i have a lot of projects with due dates, some of which i posted recently. I do have more of this story ready. i get a bunch done and send it off in batches to get looked over while i work on more so I'll always have a buffer in case life gets busy.
> 
> *EDIT* Nov 22nd, 2020  
> I DON'T KNOW HOW I MISSED ADDING THIS IN -  
> the image up above was created for me by Not-the-blue ([Tumblr post here](https://pherryt.tumblr.com/post/629835812963549184/another-charityhawktion-art-for-pherryt-from)) who I won in the Charity Hawktion.  
> Isn't it AWESOME?  
> 


	15. A Little Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve didn't expect to run into the new Avengers again and he's hoping things won't go badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LIke i said, i have a bunch more of the chapters for this written, the rest outlined and my brain is already bugging me for at least 2 more one shots to go with this (and probably at least one more if i can get the right inspiration for it, since with all the others, it would make sense to write that one too)

Once they got moving, it didn’t take long to get to Omsk at all. It was as they were landing that they realized they weren’t alone.

Another – Steve didn’t know what to call it, as it bared no resemblance to their stolen HYDRA/SHIELD jet – landed beside them and Starks new crew of Avengers exited.

Clint tensed as he saw his brother again, both groups freezing as they faced each other across an all too small space of land. Steve felt his stomach drop. Would Stark push the issue this time? He knew  _ they,  _ at least, couldn’t leave until they’d done what they’d come here to do, but would Stark help or get in the way?

Stark himself clanked down the ramp, face plate open. There was that at least, Steve thought. He must be willing to talk.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Stark drolled.

“ _ Don’t _ get in our way,” Clint growled, all his previous calm gone in a near instant.

“Far be it from me to rain on anybody’s parade other than HYDRA’s,” Stark said, unbothered by Clint’s tone, but then his face darkened. “But the same goes for you as well. You so much as lift a finger we don’t like the look of…”

“Stark,” Steve barked. “That’s unnecessary.”

“Is it?” Stark turned to Steve. “ _ You _ may trust them but I haven’t decided yet if they are  _ capable _ of being worthy of that trust.”

Steve opened his mouth and pushed forward to meet Stark in the middle when Thor was, once more, the voice of reason.

“If we can all agree that HYDRA must be taken down, then I think we should allow them to help. After all that we have learned, if anyone deserves the right to be part of that, it is them,” Thor said, nodding at Clint, Nat and Winter. “They are owed far more than can ever be given.”

Stark deflated, even his glare softening slightly. “Fine,” he said, petulantly, and turned away, faceplate snapping back into place. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Steve was certain, even before HYDRA agents came boiling out of the facility, that their element of surprise had been lost, but with the back up of a god, Tony’s armor, a flying man, the man in black, a second archer and the spider kid, their odds were well in their favor.

This belief proved to be true as they plowed through the agents like a hot knife through butter. Seeing the others in action, Steve immediately thought of ways to employ their strengths. Both the man in black and the spider kid were fast and strong – the kid even stronger than he looked – and that  _ webbing _ –

It defied logic. Honestly, waking up in the 21 st century had been one hell of an adjustment, what with superheroes and aliens and technology of the like that only Bucky had ever really dreamed of.

And, well, Howard, he supposed.

Howard. Jesus. Steve hadn’t realized Winter had killed Howard till Tony had said something and honestly, he would have expected the revelation to have sent Winter into a tailspin faster than it had.

But either the lack of memories had staved that off, or Clint’s own breakdown had derailed Winters. In either case, Steve figured as he punched a man so hard he went flying backwards about twenty feet, Winter  _ did  _ have his own breakdown, just not as dramatically as Clint had.

Was that how he dealt with things now? Was he still afraid of punishment for having memories and emotions? Or was it part of the process of Winter’s healing? As more and more of himself came back to him, would his reactions get worse and worse?

He shook his head.

They were definitely a little too busy for that sort of reflection right now.

Steve whirled, shouted warnings and positions as he took down another HYDRA agent and if his punches were a little more vicious, a little less in check then normal…

It wasn’t like anyone else would know or blame him.

Soon enough, they’d cleared the grounds on the outside and the first floor of the building, the rest of the group breaking apart while Winter and Clint moved unerringly toward the basement. Without question, Nat and Steve followed.

Tony paused. “Where do you think you’re going? There’s still more guys in the upper levels.”

“There’s something infinitely more dangerous in the lower ones,” Nat said. “That’s what we came for and we’re not leaving till it’s destroyed.”

Neither Winter nor Clint deigned to acknowledge Tony.

“JARVIS, scan the lower levels for lifeforms or heat signatures of any kind.” There was a pause. “The way is clear. We can save it for later.”

Clint turned and glared. “We don’t need your backup, Stark, and you don’t need ours. You and your new Avengers are more than a match for any of the idiots still in this building.”

Tony rocked back, but he still bit out, “Jealous much?” But Clint didn’t answer, following Winter and Nat through a doorway like they were his true north. The more Steve learned, the more he was sure that was true.

Steve paused, looking to Tony.

“We  _ are  _ on the same side, but Tony, HYDRA destroyed them. You take out HYDRA your way,  _ we’re  _ making sure HYDRA  _ never  _ does to someone else what was done to them,” Steve said. He took a step towards the stairs and stopped again, looking back to where Tony stood frozen. “Come with me. I think maybe you need to witness this for yourself. Words on a page only mean so much but don’t you  _ dare  _ think of interfering.”

Tony’s suit clanked as he stood straighter, chin raising. “Or what?” he asked challengingly.

“Or I’ll stop you,” Steve growled. He didn’t wait for Tony to decide, but leaped down the stairs, jogging quickly down the hall, his ears guiding the way past empty and desolate rooms.

Winter and Clint were already well at work, ripping the chair and all the things associated with it into pieces. Natasha had already gotten to the computer and was in the process of wiping it down before she nodded to Steve.

“I need a big strong man to take this apart for me,” she said with a smirk.

“You don’t need a big strong anything,” Steve smirked back, struggling to maintain the usual level of snark with the distress and rage coming of Winter and Clint as they rampaged through the equipment that had taken away their choices. “But I’m more than glad to help.”

There was a clank behind him, a quiet sound as Tony stopped just inside the doorway, faceplate opened as he watched the two former assets wreak havoc on the room. Steve started on the computer banks and by the time he was done, Winter had slid to his knees, breathing hard and Clint was against him, an arm around his shoulders, tucking Winters head into his neck.

“It’s okay, Winter,” Clint murmured, tears trailing down his own cheeks. “We’re more than halfway there, now. DC, Detroit, Vancouver, Tokyo, Omsk – that’s five out of nine down. They never get to take us away from ourselves again. We’re strong. We survived this long, through everything they did to us and now they’re gone and we will rise past it all… like a phoenix.”

“Everything will thaw,” Winter said gruffly into Clint’s collarbone. “It’s gonna hurt, Hawk. All the things we did –”

“That’s in the past,” Clint whispered. “C’mon, lets get up, get the fuck outta here. Only four more to go. The end’s in sight.”

“Three,” Tony piped up and Clint and Winter reacted violently, leaping to their feet, weapons drawn and aimed at Tony, breathing hard.

Tony held his hands up, then winced because his  _ hands  _ were a weapon and everyone in the room damn well knew it. “JARVIS, retract hands.” Pause. “ _ Do it.” _

The armor around his hands peeled away to leave him bare, weaponless, as he held them up. Clint’s bow wavered and Bucky stared.

“Not a threat, guys,” Tony said gently. He twisted his hands forward and back. “Like cap said, we’re on the same side. And we already took out one of those things, down in Cancun. When we learned what it was used for – “

Tony looked sick and he swallowed, hard. “Didn’t know there was more than one at the time.”

Winter stared at him, eyes wide, before giving him a shaky nod.

Stepping back, Tony’s faceplate came down with a snap, the armor wrapping around his hands once more, but turning away from Winter and Clint. “Say again? Building’s clear? Got it. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Tony crooked his head slightly over his shoulder. “You guys coming or what?”

* * *

Steve stood outside the quinjet with Tony. Nat, Clint and Winter had gone on ahead, while the rest of Tony’s group had gone inside the other… jet. Or whatever it was.

“It’s Wakandan tech,” Tony said. “I should be fucking jealous, but mostly I’m just glad they broke their normal policy of hiding when the world went to shit.”

“I’m sorry –“ Steve started, guilt for having failed to stop HYDRA and Project Insight still looming large within him.

“Don’t,” Tony said, holding up his hand. “You are, were, one man. Even with the lovely and excellent Black Widow as back up. You and I, we throw ourselves into impossible odds and expect to come out the other side.” Tony gestured down at himself, at the mostly receded suit. “I know well the price of that hubris.”

Steve shook his head. “I know but still… I feel like I could have done more. But you, Tony, how are you all still – HYDRA’s algorithm – you should be dead. You and the rest of your team – according to Nat and Zola, that algorithm specifically targeted threats. All of you are threats.

“Guess a paralyzed cripple wasn’t seen as much of a threat,” Tony said, knocking on his legs, still encased in metal even after the rest of the suit had peeled away.

“Tony, you’re not – “ Steve floundered, unsure what to say. He sighed, moving past it and back to his point. “But obviously, you still are. Look at everything you and Thor and the rest of you are doing.”

Shrugging, Tony said. “The algorithm was incomplete.”

Steve blinked. “What?”

“It was incomplete,” Tony repeated. “First off, they were idiots and secondly,  _ I’m  _ a genius.” He spread his arms in a grand ‘look at me gesture’. “Why else do you think I’m walking? Did ya think I sent away for this?” Tony scoffed, knocking on the metal on his legs once more.

Steve inclined his head, conceding the point.

“Also, I had JARVIS attack their code,” Tony said with a shrug.

“JARVIS?” Wait, Tony had talked to JARVIS earlier as well.

“My AI,” Tony said, pulling out his phone. “Artificial intelligence. Say hi to the nice captain, J.”

“It is my pleasure to meet you, Captain Rogers,” said a voice from the phone. “I am sir’s computer. I help him manage his projects and parse data while in the Iron Man suit. Among other things.”

“Uh, thank you?”

“You’re quite welcome.”

Tony put the phone away, clearing his throat. “Of course, we hadn’t finished when Project Insight launched,” Tony said, eyes turning haunted, his voice going low. “We… were unable to completely change the algorithm. We only managed to hold back  _ some  _ of the damage. It was thanks to you we even had as much time as we did once the project went on an accelerated schedule.”

“Pierce,” Steve said, dazedly. What was Tony saying… that he hadn’t failed completely then? “He suspected Fury, sent Winter to kill him. He must have decided to push the launch date in case anyone else got suspicious too.”

Tony sighed. “Look, Steve,” he said, using Steve’s name for the first time since Tokyo. “I can’t say I trust them, completely, but… knowing you’re with them, to keep them in check? It’s a relief to my mind and –“

Steve felt indignation rise up in him and he glared at Tony, opening his mouth -

And Tony kept talking – something that hadn’t changed since that first time they’d met on the helicarrier - holding up his hand to forestall Steve’s protest.

“I get that that’s not why you’re with them, and I get that they were played a bad hand. More than their fair share, maybe, but you gotta understand that we don’t know how this will play out. PTSD is a hell of a thing, and they’ve got a shit ton of it, and they’re more dangerous than almost anyone we know. So…” Tony paused, clapping Steve on the back. “Stay safe, watch their backs and don’t forget to watch yours while you’re at it.”

“I will, Tony. And thanks for understanding,” Steve said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t go  _ that  _ far,” Tony said, but he was grinning as he walked away.

Steve felt a surge of hope at that. The rest of the world probably  _ wouldn’t  _ understand. The kind of thing that happened to Clint and Winter and Nat – that just  _ didn’t  _ happen. But the rest of the world didn’t need to know. Once they were done with this, Steve was hoping to find them a quiet place to heal and just  _ be. _

They deserved it.


	16. Not Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been too much to hope for that things would continue to go as smoothly as they had been. At some point, something was going to have to give and this was apparently that point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tiptoes in* 
> 
> Please, don't kill me...
> 
> I would like to point out there is no MCD tag on this story
> 
> *tiptoes out*

They couldn’t not check Cancun. Steve understood that. He saw the way it twisted them up in the process, though. Do they trust Tony and work on the still known to exist chairs first, or do they make sure he was telling the truth?

Finally, after long, tense and mostly silent conversations between Winter and Clint, conversations that were part handwaving and part verbalization too low for even Steve to hear, they came to a decision.

Cancun later. Hungary, Los Angeles and Cairo first.

Flying about the world, despite the distances they were going, was sadly faster than driving had been.

Then again, the sky was clear of the wrecks that littered highways and residential streets alike, and with the cloaking on the jet, they encountered no military resistance either. The four of them landed in Hungary in no time, only a day after their second meetup with the new Avengers in Russia.

Vaguely, as they armed themselves and prepared to disembark, Steve wondered if he should be hoping that Tony and the rest would be there too. It had felt a little… easier, with them there. He could focus on Winter, Clint and Nat, and not be too terribly worried about being the one to watch their backs because he knew the others would be as well.

He shook his head.

No, this was for the best. The tension between the two groups would probably never ease up. There was bad blood there, even if there was some understanding. And to Tony and the others, Clint and Winter would always be wild cards they couldn’t depend on. Nat, less so, but due to his and Nat’s associations –  _ willing  _ association, even  _ –  _ with both the previous assets of HYDRA, that wariness extended to them as well.

He was regretting that train of thought not much later, when everything went to shit. 

The level of resistance they were met with was insane, and Steve found himself wishing the Avengers would arrive or that he’d gotten some way to contact them in case things went belly up.

Dammit, he should have asked for  _ something _ , Steve fumed. Wave upon wave of agents came out of the remote HYDRA facility and flowed around them, blocking them off from escape – not that Clint or Winter wanted to. They had a mission and it was blinding them to everything else.

Had HYDRA known they were a target and moved everyone back here – a likely possibility – or had this been some sort of main base? It was rather larger than the others, not that Steve had gotten all that great a look at it before the first explosion had hit the ground at their feet.

It was like New York all over again.

No, overwhelming numbers, sure, but these were humans, and they weren’t capable of getting too far out of the reach of any one of them.

And Clint had explosive arrows for anyone that tried to take to the sky, arrows that – strategically placed –  _ would  _ take down an aircraft. It wasn’t like those behemoths that had brought the advance guard of Chitauri aliens into Manhattan.

Swinging determinedly, Steve thought they were going to make it – and then Widow went down. Clint screamed from the perch he had found, dropping to the ground and running, bashing people with his bow or a boot on his way past, unheeding of the bullets.

But Steve was closer. He shook his head and pointed towards Winter. “Back him up, I got her!” he shouted.

He skidded to a stop beside Nat who was already struggling to her feet, a hand held over her side, blood pouring between her fingertips. She winced but growled, “I’m fine,” at him. Not angry he’d come to her side, but through teeth gritted against pain.

If it had been anyone else, the wound would likely have killed them outright but she set her feet, gripped her guns and laid into the next wave of HYDRA agents. Steve swung about, throwing the shield that was an unfamiliar blur of purple, black and red now.

Then Nat froze beside him. “Steve!” she choked out, pointing towards Winter and Clint. They were surrounded – and the fighting had stopped. A ring of guards had circled them and a man stood in front of them. On their faces was the blank mask Steve had first seen on Winter, on the bridge, at the helicarrier…

And now they stood, side by side, bodies rigid. Clint’s bow was lowered, his hand trembled, his eyes darted around and they landed on Steve, pleading, resigned. Steve shouted and he and Nat surged towards Winter and Clint, delving into the lines of soldiers separating him and Nat from Winter and Clint.

Clint shook his head, eyes darting towards Winter whose eyes were filled with fear, a stark contrast to the blank mask on his face, a contrast that struck Steve hard when he realized that those masks had shifted and changed while he’d been with them, as they remembered themselves, learned how to be free again.

The man in front of them was speaking something - slow, measured words, one at a time, in a language Steve recognized but didn’t understand.

“Control words,” Nat spat out, as they fought to reach Winter and Clint’s sides. Steve’s blood ran cold. That didn’t sound good. He doubled his efforts, desperate to reach them. They were making good headway, but how long did they have? What was their window? “We need to stop that man from finishing, or they’ll lose everything they’ve fought for.”

“I get it, Nat,” Steve gritted out, dodging a blow and raising his shield to deflect bullets. Nat grunted beside him and fell to one knee and he hauled her up. “Dammit. I don’t like the look of your wound.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” she said, panting, the pain in her voice a stab to Steve’s heart. “I’m on borrowed time, always have been. We can deal with me after we get them out of here.” The look in her eyes suggested she knew that it wouldn’t matter one way or the other for her. She didn’t expect to get out of here.

No. No, he couldn’t lose her,  _ or _ them. He’d lost so much already, had lost Bucky once before. He didn’t think he could do it again, especially not if Bucky – if  _ Winter  _ was going to be dragged right back into everything he’d been trying to get away from, him and Clint both. Steve growled and punched forward, flinging the shield ahead of himself to ricochet off several soldiers at once.

The man in front of Winter and Clint was grinning madly now, in triumph and Winter was trembling where he stood, the arm that had held a gun had lowered, Clint shaking his head emphatically at Steve and Nat –

And that’s when Steve saw it, the arrow that hadn’t been in Clint’s hand before.

Clint had trick arrows. He had exploding ones and others Steve couldn’t even imagine what they were for. What was he going to do? Steve had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Would they rather kill themselves then get captured again?

Steve might.

After all, he’d put himself down into the ice himself when he might have still been able to bail. He could have survived that harsh landscape of ice if he’d tried, what with the serum, with people looking for him – and he’d chosen not to.

But could they even  _ do _ that? Clint had survived New York, was unbelievably old without the benefit of cold freeze - hard to kill, he’d said.

So what the hell was he about to do?

An instant later, Steve’s question was answered. With one arm, Clint gripped Winters shoulder and with the other, he raised the arrow in his hand and bit down on it. There was a strange, ear splitting sound, and a small shockwave that knocked the people closest to them to the ground and then everything was still, hanging in a frozen moment before it exploded into motion again.

Clint and Winter staggered, the arrow dropping from Clint’s hands. The man who’d been talking was already struggling to stand back up –

Steve shoved forward again, through soldiers still too stunned to do much more than react, dragging Nat along behind him, Nat shooting anyone who tried to close in on them after they passed through the corridor Steve was making through the bodies –

The man got to his knees, his mouth opened –

And a repulsor blast hit him square in the chest, Iron Man swooping in from  _ somewhere _ , taking out the threat the man represented.

Shaking their heads, Winter a little slower to recover than Clint, they got back to their feet but stilled, staring down at the man in stunned disbelief, then at Tony as Iron man landed beside them.

The arrival of Tony and the death of the HYDRA man turned the tide in their favor despite the sheer numbers arrayed against them, men already fleeing from the rear while the ones in the front desperately fought on, looking for an avenue to escape.

They didn’t find one, every last one of them gunned down in one way or the other as Tony was joined by his new team and fought side by side with Steve, Winter, Clint and Nat. When the grounds outside the Hungary facility was cleared, Winter and Clint hesitated, shifting their eyes from the facility, to Nat. Clint’s hand moved, a gesture Steve didn’t know.

Nat did, though, her eyes narrowing and her hands moving sharply as she replied. “Go,” she bit out. “It’s what we came here for.”

“Nat, you’re injured –“ Steve started. She turned her full glare on him and he swallowed.

“I know my limits, Steve, and we have important matters to attend to.” She softened her expression and touched his arm, her hands still covered in blood – her  _ own  _ blood. “You know they have to see it through or we’ll only have to come back and there could be more men then. Look, I’ll stay back here with Stark, see if they’ve got anything for me to patch up my wound, you back them up.”

“But –“

“I’ll be  _ fine _ ,” she said softly, pulling his face down for a brief kiss. She smiled. “The calvary came, remember?”

He searched her eyes, then caught Tony’s who gave Steve a nod.

“Sam’s a field medic. He’ll check her out. You stay with them,” Tony insisted, pointing at the man with the metal wings. Steve sighed, torn between the need to take care of Nat and to make sure Winter and Clint were okay, but then he finally nodded.

He turned, hurrying to catch up with Clint and Winter as they rampaged through the base with single minded determination. It wasn’t hard to find where they’d gone, and it wasn’t any easier to watch them taking apart the machines that had ripped them apart time and time again.

But the grim satisfaction when it was done was immense.

Still, the three of them didn’t waste any time getting back above ground to check on Natasha. They nearly ran into Sam as they exited the facility.

“Good. I was just coming to get you. You guys gotta come with us – Widow’s hurt more than she let on and I really can’t do much with the limited supplies here. We’ve got to get her back to a proper medical facility.”

“What?” Steve blurted, looking from him to Winter and Clint in panic. Winter’s brow was furrowed and he stared at Clint in question. Clint shook his head and shrugged. Why weren’t they reacting? Did they care so little for Nat? No, there was no way that was true. Steve had seen how much they  _ did  _ care for her and each other with his own two eyes.

“We gotta  _ go, _ man,” Sam said impatiently, turning and hurrying back to the aircraft the Avengers had been traveling in.

“Right,” Steve nodded and chased after him. Behind him, he could hear Clint and Winter following, though their steps didn’t have the same urgency. Steve didn’t hesitate to follow Sam onto Starks aircraft, but he heard Clint and Winter’s steps faltering. Steve stopped at the top of the ramp and faced them, glaring. “C’mon, Nat’s hurt! I think you can get over your wariness for Stark and his crew at least for that!” Steve growled, starting to get pissed off at their show of reluctance.

He turned on his heel and stalked the rest of the way on board. Either they’d follow or they wouldn’t.

A few seconds later, they did, edging along the space cautiously, eying everyone around them suspiciously, but Steve was just relieved they’d come aboard.

“Tony, talk to me, what’s going on?”

“Nat’s dying,” Tony said, blunt as fuck. Steve’s knees wobbled and he reached out for something to hold on to – only to find that Winter and Clint were holding him up, but they still hadn’t reacted to Tony’s words. What the fuck?

“Not gonna happen,” Steve shook his head. “You’re gonna fix her!”

“Not here, we can’t,” Tony bit back. “And if I’m going to take you fine folks back to my compound upstate, I want reassurance that  _ they  _ won’t turn on us,” he said, pointing at Clint and Winter.

Steve turned to Winter and Clint desperately. “Of course, that won’t even be a problem, right?” he asked them. They exchanged silent, confused glances and then Clint’s hands moved again and Winter shrugged.

“What’s wrong with you two?” Steve asked, stepping closer to them. Nat had said… there were codewords… what if they hadn’t stopped that man in time? What if, even without the final words, Clint and Winter had been damaged, somehow, like maybe a… a soft reset or something?

A hand caught Steve’s shoulder and Tony stepped up beside them. “Steve, I don’t think they can hear you. Hawkeye set something off before I was in range to take that guy out. Look at their ears.”

“What? They can’t be…” Steve trailed off, staring at the trickles of dried blood that had dribbled out of Clint’s ears and that he’d completely missed among all the other dirt and grime and blood that covered them. He turned swiftly to Winter, his hand pushing back the hair, tucking it behind his ear, seeing the same evidence there.

His mind was already running overtime to provide proof.

It… actually made a hell of a lot of sense. That sound had been excruciating, even as far away as Steve had been, and you can’t be reset if you couldn’t hear the damn codewords. It was smart – but even with their accelerated healing, it would take time for their hearing to come back.

Steve hadn’t noticed, though. Because there’d been no chance to see it in battle, everyone far too busy fighting, everyone good enough at what they did that Steve didn’t really need to micromanage anything – not that Clint or Winter always listened to start with. And then after, Steve hadn’t even  _ tried _ to talk to them when they’d ripped apart the chair, knowing how emotional they got, having seen how focused they get.

But Nat had known.

She’d waved her hands at them before they’d gone down into the bowels of the facility to face their beast – but it had been more purposeful than that, hadn’t it? Sign language. They’d used it before and it hadn’t even clicked for him.

But how had Nat known – of course.

Clint’s arrow. If anyone would know the sorts of tricks up his sleeve, the specialty arrows he would have in his arsenal, it would be the partner he’d had for Steve didn’t even know how long before his supposed death in New York. She knew how his mind worked, would have suspected what he was doing and what it would mean.

But that meant…

They didn’t know what was going on.

They didn’t know Nat was hurt worse than they’d all thought.

_ Oh god. _

Steve stared at them in distress, his hand still on Winters head, in his hair and Winter smiled at him, small, sad, almost soft and wondering, his hand capturing Steve’s and pulling it away. Clint shifted and Steve looked at him.

Shrugging, Clint said, “Ears will heal, they always will.”

“But… I don’t know sign… and…” Steve glanced at Tony. “Where is she? We need to show them.”

Tony nodded at a privacy screen. “She’s right over there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to give this chapter and the following 3 all in one fell swoop, because i thought Lirael, who's been my second set of eyes throughout this whole process, might actually kill me if i didn't... *shifty eyes*


	17. Uncomfortable Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve learns more than he wanted to on the flight towards Tony's compound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder to *points up* look at the tags and please don't kill me :D

Clint and Winter hadn’t left Nat’s side once since Steve and Tony had showed them behind the privacy curtain. There wasn’t much room over there, so Steve had been the bigger man and stepped back, tried to find a distraction. The jet was already on its way to Tony’s Upstate facility and all he had was time, way too much time to kill.

So, Steve watched as the newer Avengers (were they really new if the first crew never even got off the ground?) slowly relaxed, those with masks even taking them off.

The spider kid – ‘ _ Call me SpiderMan _ ,’ the kid had insisted in battle - turned out to actually be a fucking kid.

“Jesus,” he breathed. Steve settled down beside the kid. “Hey, I’m Steve.” Steve offered his hand and the kid looked at him a little in awe.

“I know who you are. I mean, everybody knows who you are. You’re Captain America. I still can’t believe it’s you, oh my god,” the kid gushed, no pause of any kind, taking Steve’s hand in both his and shaking it – and kept on shaking it. “Oh uh! I’m Peter. Peter Parker, I mean, Peter Stark, now.”

“Stark?” Steve felt his eyebrow rise at that. Peter let go of his hand, finally and Steve pulled it back to the safety of his own lap.

“Yeah, Tony and Pepper uh, they took me in when… when my family died,” Peter said, suddenly looking away, one arm crossing over his uniform and grabbing the other, almost like he was hugging himself, looking so much younger than he already did.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Steve said softly. “If I may ask, how old are you?”

“14,” he said, his chin lifting stubbornly, daring him to challenge it.

“14?” Steve repeated, horror and disbelief mingling together.

Apparently, Peter misunderstood his tone, thinking Steve was challenging his age, and he deflated, mumbling, “Almost 14. Close enough.”

Jesus fucking Christ! What the hell was Stark  _ thinking _ , letting this kid fight? Letting this kid anywhere  _ near  _ HYDRA’s or anyone else’s clutches? Anger flowed into him and Steve nodded tightly, standing up.

“I need to… check on…” He waved in the direction of where Tony and Sam were huddled over some readouts for Nat, where Bucky and Clint had glued themselves to her side behind a screen.

“Oh! Oh yeah, of course,” Peter said earnestly, tripping over his words a little. “I hope she’s gonna be okay. I bet she is. Tony can do anything.”

Steve’s anger built at the practical hero worship for an adult who was putting a kid in danger, but he kept a tight rein on it. He didn’t want to take it out on the kid. “Nice talk.”

Stalking away, Steve struggled to breathe evenly, to get himself under control before he punched Stark in the face. Tony looked up at Steve’s approach and his expression turned wary as soon as his eyes landed on Steve.

“We need to talk,” Steve hissed, grabbing at Tony’s arm and hauling him a little distance away, glaring at Sam to stay back. Sam held up his hands and went back to the monitor.

Tony squawked a little indignantly but went along with Steve, his eyes sliding over to Peter and then back to Steve. “Aah. It’s… it’s not what you think, Steve.”

“It’s not what I think?” Steve barely kept his voice under control, his hand clenching into fists at his sides. He really wanted to hit something right now. “You’re putting that kid in  _ danger,  _ Tony. He has no business being on the field. He should be in fucking school!”

Tony looked at Steve sadly. “You think I haven’t tried? Steve, he’s an orphan. Do you know  _ why?  _ You and I? Nat, Clint, Thor and Bruce – we  _ weren’t _ the only survivors after New York. Did you know that? The media kept it hush hush.  _ SHIELD _ kept it hush hush. Because there were only two kinds of survivors – people like us, or  _ more  _ than like us – and the ones who are dying slowly.”

Nodding subtly over at Peter, Tony went on. “Before Pepper and I found him, Peter was already patrolling his new neighborhood, the one he was living in with his foster parents – who were SHIELD, by the way. The government, and SHIELD, really wanted their hands on more super heroes – considering who SHIELD turned out to be, you can imagine how badly that would have gone. Most of the others like him were old enough and smart enough to get under the radar, but Peter was a kid. What else could we do?”

“And now? I don’t know if you’ve looked around, lately, but we’re a little lacking in the hero department. And I know Peter.  _ He’s my kid, _ okay? If I didn’t keep him with me, under my eye, he’d be out there on his own, doing god knows what, getting into things and I  _ can’t protect him if I’m not there _ !” Tony hissed out his last words with an emphatic poke to Steve’s chest with each word.

Steve stared. Tony’s eyes were wet as he glared right back at Steve.

“Fuck,” Steve said quietly, running a hand down over his face. This was their fucking world now. And despite Tony’s words from - was it only a couple days ago? – Steve couldn’t help but believe this was his fault, that it was because of him that Peter was an orphan, that he was in danger now. Because Steve hadn’t stopped HYDRA back during the war. Because he hadn’t been able to keep the nuke from blowing up New York. Because HYDRA had come back out of the shadows only a few weeks ago – a couple months now? Time was blurring for him – all of it adding up to Peter and countless others being orphans and the word being an absolute wreck.

Guilt tore at Steve and Tony sighed, his own hackles backing down.

“The world isn’t a pretty place right now, Steve, but it  _ isn’t  _ your fault. Or mine. This kind of thing? I refuse to believe it all hinged on one man. That we didn’t do our fucking best in the face of not  _ just _ overwhelming odds, but the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen and, I gotta admit, I thought I’d seen it all,” Tony said.

Steve wanted to look away from Tony, his eyes seemingly seeing right through all of Steve. Maybe he was.

“Don’t take on this guilt. It’s just gonna eat at you.” Tony’s smiled twisted up wryly. “Trust me, I know. And look, just… this whole thing you’re doing, with them? I get it. I do. It’s gotta be done. But don’t do this alone,” Tony went on. “If today proved anything, it’s that you can’t afford to.”

“You can’t be offering – Tony, you don’t even trust them,” Steve countered warily. Tony wasn’t wrong, but… “We had it. Clint stopped that guy – “

“Like hell! You almost lost  _ all  _ of them today,” Tony hissed. “Especially Romanov.”

Steve felt the words like a blow.

“And you still might.”

“What?” he breathed out. “I thought – but you said - “ They were going where they were  _ now  _ because Tony had said they  _ could _ .

Tony shook his head sadly. “Sure, we can fix her up from that, but Steve… She’s not a super soldier like you, or a knock off like Barnes or even whatever the hell Barton is, but there’s something in her blood and it’s fighting. She didn’t  _ survive  _ New York, Steve. She’s dying, just like all those other ‘survivors’. Only, she’s doing it differently. The poison on her skin? It’s a symptom of something worse.”

Steve shook his head, unwilling to believe it. Other than the poison of her touch, she was the picture of health, outside of her current wound – which had nothing to do with New York.

“No – she’s gonna be fine. She’s going to heal up from today, Clint and Winter’s ears will heal up too, and we’ll be back out there to finish the job. Even you said that as long as we get her to the right facilities, she’d be  _ fine _ ,” Steve insisted desperately.

“You know, she’s not as unkillable as you three? Even not counting normal humans versus super soldiers and whatever the hell the Barton’s are, New York did a number on her.”

“Tony, she  _ survived _ New York – she has to be enhanced somehow,” Steve protested. He felt like a broken record.

“Yeah, and look what it did to her!” Tony almost shouted the words and Steve held back the wince. Tony didn’t stop, but he did gentle his voice. “That poison? Isn’t just hurting the people she touches. It’s  _ killing _ her right now.”

Steve swallowed and closed his eyes for a second. He looked across the jet to where he knew Barton and Winter were pressed close to Nat’s bed. “We’ll deal with it.”

“How?” Tony demanded.

“ _ I don’t know _ ,” Steve growled out, clutching at his hair. Winter’s head lifted and his eyes narrowed. Was his hearing returning already? Who knew how fast his healing kicked in, or Clint’s? Well, HYDRA had probably known, but Steve sure as fuck didn’t.

Steve didn’t want to tell them what Tony had said, not yet, but he wouldn’t be able to hide from the truth much longer. But what could they even  _ do  _ about it? So Steve waved him off, hoping Winter would let it go. They’d talk later. When they were all alone. When they could rage about the unfairness of the world and take comfort in each other.

“We might be able to help.” The man in black said suddenly, appearing at their side like a ghost, minus the hood that had covered his face. “My apologies, we’ve never been introduced.  I am T’Challa, of Wakanda. I don’t know if you’ve heard of my country, but we are more advanced than we had led others to believe. Our people are out in the world right now, helping where they can as a relief effort but I, with the skill that only one who is the BlackPanther can wield, have agreed to help Stark . In my country, we have some advanced techniques and technology that could be of use, that could help your friend.”

“You want to bring them to Wakanda?” Sam asked incredulously, apparently not as oblivious to this conversation as Steve had thought. Fuck.

“Perhaps not,” T’Challa conceded. “Wakanda isn’t quite ready for this. But we could do some research there, provided we can get what our scientists would deem necessary to do the work.”

Tony looked between Steve and T’Challa speculatively and hummed. “Conference call?” he asked.

“Conference call,” T’Challa answered, giving Tony a small, regal nod. Who was he to promise the aid of an entire country? A country, Steve was gathering, that had passed itself off as something less than it was, and would not have normally accepted such grand gestures such as a promise like this, a promise that put on full display everything it had tried to hide?

Then again, did Steve really care as long as the man could truly help?

As they spoke, Steve caught sight of Barney – who’d been doing a pretty damn good job of staying  _ out  _ of sight until just now – edging towards the privacy screen behind which Nat, Winter and Clint were. He frowned, his hackles rising. Giving T’Challa, Sam and Tony a perfunctory ‘excuse me’, Steve left the trio to stalk towards Barney.

He caught Clint’s brother before he could disturb the others and pulled him away. Barney looked like he wanted to put up a fight but Steve tightened his grip and glared at him.

“Now is really not the time.”

“I’m his brother!” Barney protested.

“So I heard,” Steve said. “And just the sight of you left him unbalanced for days.”

Barney ripped his arm away and Steve allowed it, watching him warily as Barney crossed his arms over his chest and glared petulantly at Steve. “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“And yet, he doesn’t want to see you, and right now is  _ not  _ the best time,” Steve reiterated, but didn’t expand. He shouldn’t  _ have  _ to. Anyone should be able to see that it wouldn’t be, what with the destruction of the chairs - always emotionally charged - and Nat’s injuries…

Or was Steve maybe too close to view it objectively? Maybe they couldn’t see what he saw, privy as he was to the state of Clint’s mind, and Winter’s and Nat’s, allowed to see beyond the surface they showed to others…

“You’re Captain America!” Barney growled. “What happened to fairness? Justice? You don’t even know my side of the story – just his!”

“Maybe there’s no blame. Maybe Clint’s mistaken,” Steve admitted, not bothering to go into the fact that he didn’t even know  _ Clint’s  _ side of the story. “But I’m just thinking… Tony’s very concerned about Clint’s mental state. In fact, he’s convinced _ all _ of them are unstable, dangerous – but he isn’t worried about you and I can’t help but wonder why – if HYDRA had their hands on both of you, why is Clint so much worse off than you are?”

Barney shifted uncomfortably. “It wasn’t my fault,” he said weakly. There was sadness, regret, even guilt in both his words and on his face, but Steve was suddenly certain Barney was, in fact, telling the truth. Whatever had happened, surely HYDRA had twisted things to  _ their  _ advantage. It was what they did.

God, Steve was so tired.

“We’re landing,” Tony called out suddenly, breaking the tense silence between Steve and Barney. “I’ve got doctors on standby, we just need to get her down into medical asap. Steve, you’re going to want to keep an eye on your boys, make sure they don’t…” Tony waved his hand vaguely and Steve’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t what?” he nearly growled before taking a breath to center himself again.

“React badly,” Tony said flatly. “And Barney – leave them alone. You might trigger your brother if you keep pushing and that’s the last thing we need.”

Barney grumbled under his breath and shoved himself away, stalking over to a corner and glaring at anyone who came too close.

There was a gentle tap as the jet landed, and then everything was a flurry of activity as they rushed to get Nat inside.


	18. Out of the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's just a little emotional, okay? It's been a rough few days, but most especially the last few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is fluffy stuff coming, i promise

Steve paced up and down the hallway outside of the room Nat had been taken into.

The three of them had been left alone in this part of the compound, most of the other new Avengers going off to… Steve didn’t really fucking care, honestly, so long as the other Barton didn’t stick around and antagonize Clint.

He’d watched Tony drag Barney away, so that fear was put to rest. For now.

Winter had already punched a hole through the wall with his metal hand and Clint had his bow out, sighting along an arrow, occasionally drawing it back. Steve was afraid any sudden movement, a wrong look, and Clint would let the arrow fly.

Sam had been the last to leave, actually. Another time, another place, the two of them might have been friends, but Steve really had no time now to find out. Sam lingered a bit, staring, and Steve glared.

“You got a problem with us?” Steve asked Sam.

“Nah, I ain’t got a problem,” Sam said, shrugging, his shoulders shifting easily like the wings didn’t weigh anything, even though they had to, even though Sam wasn’t enhanced or anything, according to Tony. “Y’all been dealt a shitty hand, and you’re just doing the best you can. Just, word of advice, man – don’t get so wrapped up in taking care of  _ them _ that you lose yourself.”

With that not-so-cryptic bit of advice, Sam abruptly left, leaving Steve to shake his head in befuddlement. Sam didn’t even  _ know  _ him. Steve resumed pacing and he heard a snarl from Winter, seconds before he grabbed Steve by the shoulders and shoved him against a wall.

“Stop. Moving,” Winter snapped, eyes wild. Steve threw Winters hands off him, then shoved away from the wall. He glared back at Winter.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Steve snapped back. He didn’t even know if they could hear him yet, didn’t know if their ears had healed enough, but he couldn’t hold back, all his worry and anger swirling about finally finding a focus. “And I’m surprised you’re even trying, what with HYDRA turning you into their puppet, making you do  _ their  _ bidding.”

An arrow embedded itself beside Steve’s head before he finished speaking but Winter still didn’t show any indication that he’d understood a word of it. Clint, though, he obviously had. Was his hearing returning already, or did he have other means of understanding Steve?

Maybe he’d read Steve’s lips? That was a thing people could do, he was fairly sure, though he’d never been very good at it himself.

Steve ripped the arrow out of the wall and threw it aside negligently, turning his back on both of them. For the sake of all their frayed nerves, he tried to keep from pacing, but in moments, he was back to it again, freezing only when he heard a door down the hall open.

From the hall, a woman approached, the white coat of a doctor, the stereotypical stethoscope draped around her neck. He watched, waiting, his throat going tight. What if it was bad news? What if Natasha hadn’t made it? What if they hadn’t gotten her here in time?

There was noise, a clatter behind him, and he knew Winter and Clint had both stood, but they hung back, letting Steve take the lead here. Steve would have felt relief at that, at their trust in him – even if they were currently annoyed with him – except the tension in the room was too thick with worry.

“Any news?” Steve asked, even though he knew there couldn’t be – it was too soon, at least, not if it was good. But the doctor didn’t look like she was about to give them bad news, so… what?

The doctor shook her head. “I’m not here about Ms. Romanoff, I’m here for them,” she said, nodding her head towards both Winter and Clint. “Mr. Stark said they were also injured?”

“Ah, their ears,” Steve said, leaving out the part where it was self-inflicted. “But I’m not sure that’s wise. Even on the best of days, I don’t think they’d be all that keen on letting doctors getting too near them.”

“Captain Rogers, I must insist – “

Steve held up his hand, stalling her. “Back off. Neither of them are hurt that badly – except their ears,” he reluctantly acknowledged as she went to protest, “And they’re already on edge. It can wait until we know Natasha’s out of danger.”

Glowering, she tried to push past him. She succeeded, making his limbs freeze, when she snapped out, “You don’t have the right to make their decisions for them.”

And oh god, but that was what he was doing, wasn’t it? He’d taken their choices from them as surely as HYDRA had. He stumbled back a step, two, and she took advantage of it, advancing on Winter and Clint, who were both looking wary and uncomfortable with each step closer that she took. Clint was frowning, taking in Steve’s expression. Whatever he saw there, Clint clearly didn’t like it because his bow was back up and trained on the doctor in a heartbeat.

She screeched to a halt, holding up empty hands.

Steve hurried to place himself between them. Turning, putting his back to Clint, to the arrow aiming right at him now, Steve glared down at the doctor. “I think you should go.”

“Is there a problem here?” Tony asked from across the room, having returned, now sans the Iron Man suit.

“Yeah, your medical staff is a little too pushy,” Steve said, not taking his eyes off her. “Doesn’t heed good advice when she hears it. Such as advice about leaving people who are a little too on edge alone and let  _ them  _ go to  _ her.” _

“Ah,” Tony said in understanding. “I’m afraid that’s my fault. The med staff is pushy because I have a tendency to not show up to my appointments.” He shrugged. “I’m a busy man, I tend to forget. Pepper hired them to make sure I didn’t.”

Clanking forward, Tony nodded at the doctor. “You may go. When things calm down enough for your expertise, we’ll let you know.”

Huffing an exasperated breath, the doctor glared at Steve, then Tony for good measure, and turned to leave.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I’ll make sure this area is left alone except anyone that  _ needs  _ to be here, but they – “ he pointed at Winter and Clint, “need to take a step back, find a productive way to distract themselves. Like, maybe, I dunno, take advantage of the facilities here and take a fucking shower? Just a thought. Might be better able to convince the doctors to leave you alone if you don’t look like the walking dead.”

Behind Steve, Clint made the smallest of sounds and he was certain, then, that some of Clint’s hearing had come back.

“We’re not leaving this room until we know Natasha’s okay,” Clint ground out behind Steve. Turning, Steve noted that Clint had, at least, dropped the bow, the arrow put away. Winter was standing frozen behind him and Steve could just barely see the join of their hands between their bodies, touching, taking comfort in each other.

But not in him. He swallowed.

“We can take turns,” Steve said. “I can stay here and wait while you get cleaned up, if you’ll do the same for me. I’d come for you immediately if anything were to change.”

“She’ll be in surgery a while, most likely,” Tony called out helpfully. “Plenty of time.”

Steve closed his eyes. “Tony.”

“Just trying to be a good host,” Tony said. “I can give you all rooms if you want them. This place is big enough, but I have a feeling you won’t want to be too far from Widow, so I’ll make sure she gets the largest room in this wing and have extra accommodations brought down. The rooms in the living quarters all have their own showers, of course, but for now,  there’s a team shower just that way…” He trailed off as Winter continued to stare blankly, eyes focused on nothing while Clint started making faces.

Tony facepalmed. “Right. Temporarily deaf.” Letting his hand drop, Tony sighed and pointed down the hall, mouthing exaggeratedly “Sho-wer.”

“I-d-i-ot,” Clint said back, overly loud. Tony threw up his hands. Steve was just counting it as a win that none of them were throwing punches or shooting. “I can read your lips, if you’re not being stupid about it.”

“Whatever,” Tony grumbled. “This is what I get for trying to play Mr. Nice Host. Catch me doing  _ that  _ again.”  Tony tossed a thick folder at Steve, Steve catching it reflexively. “A little light reading for you, Cap. Lots more where that came from, but that seems to me the most relevant. Keep yourself a little occupied while you’re stuck here waiting.” He stalked away, his feet clanking noisily as he went.

Clint and Winter fidgeted for a few more moments, Clint turning to hold a silent conversation with Winter using just their eyes, completely excluding Steve. Finally, Clint tugged on Winters arm and dragged him off down the hall in the direction Tony had indicated without a single word or even a glance back at Steve.

Leaving Steve alone in…

God… when  _ was  _ the last time Steve had been left alone somewhere? Not counting the rest room? He looked around the empty space, itching to go after them but  _ needing  _ to stay here, to wait for word about Nat.

Somebody had to, and he had promised.

How long had she been in there, anyway? Steve resumed his pacing. Worry barreled through Steve - for Nat, her surgery and her future health problems, in addition to his usual worry for Clint and Winter, and the added concerns of what would happen, how they would deal, if Nat didn’t make it - all cascaded through his mind, drowning out everything else. He should probably be thinking about how ill prepared they’d been for that last run in with HYDRA. Or how close to failing they’d come. He should probably be thinking about their further moves once everyone was back up to snuff – he knew there was no way to get Winter or Clint to stop their quest. And Steve didn’t want to, exactly, he just wanted it over.

Wanted them to all find peace.

He ran a hand through his hair and almost growled.

Clint and Winter weren’t the only ones who needed a distraction. Steve’s eyes fell upon the folder he’d dropped onto a chair without really paying attention. Sighing, he sat, pulling the folder onto his lap and opened it, wondering what Tony would have thought was all so fire important that Steve should have this now, that he wouldn’t already know.

Only an hour later, Steve’s head in his hands, he knew. As distractions went, it wasn’t a very good one, only adding to his anxiety and worry for Winter and Clint and Nat. It had added to his hatred of HYDRA as well. He hadn’t known it could grow any higher and still, he knew Tony hadn’t shared everything he’d found. The rage Steve held would only become greater the more he learned, he was sure.

He didn’t  _ want _ to learn more.

Tossing the folder aside, fingers gripping hair that was longer than it had ever been, Steve wanted to burn it all. The folder, the files, each and every HYDRA facility. He wanted to burn HYDRA to the ground the way he thought he had once before. He wanted to raze them so badly they could never rise from the ashes.

It wouldn’t change the past, but he sure as fuck didn’t want them doing anything like this again. Not to anyone.

He stood, resuming the pacing, wishing that Clint or Winter had come back. Nobody had come by with news in too long. None of the other team had come to check on them either. And how long could a goddamn shower take anyway?

Fuck, he wanted to reassure himself that they were here, they were all right, and he couldn’t. Because Natasha was in surgery, because she  _ wasn’t  _ all right, and Clint and Winter weren’t  _ here _ , doing god knew what in Tony’s compound and he couldn’t even go looking for them because Steve had  _ promised _ .

They had each other, and he had no one. His breathing was picking up a little too fast for his liking and he was eyeing the hole Winter had made in the wall, debating making it a matching set when his hearing picked up on a door opening. He whirled about, tension filling his body, hands clenched at his side, spine rigid and eyes locked on the hall where the footsteps echoed as they came closer.

From around the corner, a doctor appeared, a different one, calling Steve’s name.

Steve swallowed, still breathing too fast as he tried to divine the news from the doctor’s demeanor. “Nat?”

“Ms. Romanoff is fine. Out of surgery and resting now. There were some complications, but nothing we couldn’t handle. Mr. Stark mentioned we might run some tests when she’s feeling a little better, to help with her other issue,” the woman said.

“Right, right,” Steve said absently, not quite registering all of those words past the news that they were done and she would be fine. An anxiousness was crawling through him. “Can we see her?”

“She’s sleeping now, but if you can promise  _ not  _ to disturb her, it might actually be a good idea to have someone familiar there in case she wakes up.”

Steve winced. This doctor had obviously heard about what had happened earlier with Clint and Winter. He nodded instead, following the doctor to the door outside Nat’s room.

“I’d suggest a shower first, though,” the doctor said, finally taking a good look at Steve’s condition which, to be fair, was a fucking mess. He was covered in dirt and blood and who knew what else and the doctor’s lip had curled up in distaste. “I’d prefer it if you and any others visiting my patient could be… clean. We don’t want  _ more  _ complications.”

Steve nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ll go take one now. I just… I couldn’t leave until – “

The doctor smiled at him understandingly, but otherwise left without a word. Steve closed his eyes and let out a giddy little breath. Opening them again, he stared at the door. He could open it, take a quick peek and reassure himself, but then… then he wouldn’t leave her side, he was sure. It had been hard enough to hold himself back, to give Winter and Clint the limited space they’d been afforded earlier, and he knew the second he laid eyes on Nat, he wouldn’t walk away again till she woke up.

Forcing himself to go back down the hall, he made for the showers Tony had mentioned. Winter and Clint had been gone a good long time – or maybe not that long at all. How much time  _ had  _ passed? It had been that strange mixture of drawn out and all too fast that Steve could never figure  _ how  _ that was even possible.

He pushed open the door to find the shower was really a communal shower, as Tony had implied, and everything was wide open and… perfectly clear. Instead of showering separately, Winter and Clint had arrayed themselves under the very first showerhead, the steam of the showers doing much to obscure Steve’s sight, the sound of the shower – the water pressure incredible by the sound of it – drowning out most of the noises coming from the shower. 

But he could still see, and hear, enough.

He swallowed at the tableau before him, of Clint curled around Winter, Winter braced against the wall, head thrown back to rest on Clint’s shoulder, Clint’s hand - white knuckled – gripping Winter hard as his hips rolled forward, sensuous and slow.

It was…

It was somehow so different, so much more profound, then Steve had ever seen between the two of them and he felt, suddenly, that he was intruding, no matter how much they’d welcomed him into their little circle. Jealousy spiked through him, a jealousy he hadn’t felt since the early days, when it had felt like Clint was flaunting what Steve had lost. Feeling at sea, left out of their emotional moment, Steve had to remind himself that while he may have had Bucky first, Clint had been the only thing Bucky –  _ Winter  _ \- had been able to cling to in a world of hurt. That they had sustained each other through so much when everyone else had abandoned them or betrayed them.

They would, obviously, have much more connection, much more meaning between them then either of them with Steve.

He… he was an outsider. Maybe always would be. Even with Nat…

Something shifted, changed in their stances, Winters head bowing forward and Clint’s head slipped down, resting between Winter’s shoulder blades, body heaving, shaking in a different way, his thrusts now erratic. Above the thunder of Steve’s heart in his ears, of the water hitting the tile, he could just barely make out words, snippets, broken sobs…

“Can’t lose – stay with me –” Clint’s words were chopped, broken. If Steve could barely hear them, he knew Winter couldn’t, not with his ears as damaged as they were. “I need – we’ll make it. Got to…”

Maybe…

“Don’t leave - alone. Not aga- Never again,” Clint said, the words more vulnerable than anything Steve had ever heard him say.

Maybe that was why Clint said them. Felt free to say them. Maybe… didn’t even  _ know  _ he was saying them?

“Promise me, James.” Steve jolted at the use of Winter’s  _ given  _ name. “Please. Please, please...”

Winter may not have heard Clint’s words, but he was affected just the same, his flesh hand leaving the wall to cover the one on his hip, his metal hand digging holes into the tile. Tears pricked Steve’s eyes as he quietly slipped back out of the shower and slid down the wall beside the door, head in his hands, holding back his own sobs.


	19. Speaking in Silences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat wakes up, Tony's going gray and Steve gets a little more insight.

Clint and Winter had finally left the showers, clad in sweats and soft tee shirts, looking utterly different, and absolutely approachable in the clothes – a drastic change of everything Steve had seen them in so far.

It made bile rise in his throat at how deceptive it was. Pushing past it, Steve passed on the news, showed them to Nat’s room and then had quickly made his own escape to clean the grime and blood off of himself.

If he stood there, arms and head braced against the wall of the shower as the hot water pounded on his back, tears slipping down his face, no one was there to notice. No one cared.

When at last he had recovered enough from his pity party of one and cleaned himself off properly, Steve turned off the water, toweled himself off and discovered similar clothes to what Clint and Winter had found in the cabinets of the communal room.

He slunk into Nat’s room, more unsure of himself than he should be – Steve may be the newest addition of the little group, but he’d known Winter the longest. It had to count for something, right? – and only relaxed when he finally laid eyes on Nat, resting peacefully on the bed, her red hair fanning out limply along the pillow. Clint and Bucky had taken up their own perches – Clint almost literally, actually crouched on the bar at the foot of her hospital bed – and only Clint spared a glance for Steve as he entered.

Winter stood behind Clint, arms wrapped around Clint’s middle, tucked behind the fold of Clint’s legs where Steve couldn’t see. Winter’s chin was draped over Clint’s shoulder and the two of them kept watch on Nat while she slept. Both of them looked better than they had mere hours ago, and if it weren’t for the hospital equipment, the entire scene could have been pleasantly domestic.

It was a far cry from how they were around him when he’d been healing up from the beating he’d received from Winter’s hands himself. He tried not to feel resentful of that.

It wasn’t like Winter had really been able to remember Steve all that well at that point. Steve really wasn’t sure how much Winter  _ did  _ remember, even now.

Steve held back, watching for a few moments, then grabbed one of the heavyset wooden chairs, easily moving it closer to Nat's bed and dropping into it where he could see her and the monitors. As far as he could see, everything looked normal. Eventually, exhausted in so many ways, the rhythmic beeping of the machines lulled Steve into sleep.

He woke to the tingle of fingers carding through his hair and knew without looking that Nat was awake. Blinking groggily, his head fell off his fist and the hand fell away and Steve almost whined at the loss. He held back, straightening up and looking at Nat who was looking much, much better.

“You’re awake,” he breathed out, reaching for her hand.

“I am,” she agreed, curling her fingers through his. Relief filled Steve. He knew he should talk about what Tony had said, about the poison inside her, but he couldn’t bring it up now. Not yet. Did she know? He thought back to her words, about living on borrowed time and he shuddered. Suddenly he was certain.

She did.

His opened his mouth, throat tightening, eyes burning in counterpoint to the burn of her fingers on his and she tugged at his hand, tugged him till he scootched closer, till he was perched on the very edge of the chair.

“Shhh, Rogers,” Nat said. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Steve choked. “You’re  _ not _ . You haven’t been.”

“Stark told you,” she said flatly. He nodded and she sighed. “It doesn’t matter,” she murmured. “There’s nothing to be done about it.”

Steve shook his head. “Tony doesn’t think so. T’Challa – they’ve got tech we don’t have. They could –“

She pulled her hand away from him, leaving his empty, cold. His fingers spasmed in their desire to reach back out to her.

“Tony thinks its possible to fix almost anything with science _ ,  _ but some things aren’t worth fixing,” she said.

Steve’s blood ran cold. “What?”

“Some things, some people, are broken beyond measure,” Nat said, eyes shifting from him to the end of the bed, his gaze following hers, finding Winter and Clint still the way they’d been when he first had come in, staring at him and Natasha with a strange, absolute focus that made Steve want to squirm. “All you have to do is look at us for proof.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try, that  _ we  _ shouldn’t try,” Steve protested. He looked from Winter and Clint to Nat and back again, eyes pleading, wondering how much Clint was picking up, how much Winter was. Natasha hadn’t signed a single word and Steve had no idea if their ears had healed enough for conversation.

“And what if we’re always broken?” Clint asked, the deep rumble of his voice coming too loudly in the room. Winter nuzzled into his neck, his eyes flicking from Steve to Natasha. “How long do you stay with us? How long before you give up on us ever getting better?”

“Till the end of the line,” Steve said in a choked whisper. Clint showed no sign of hearing that – however much had returned, Steve hadn’t spoken loudly enough and he couldn’t, he couldn’t speak further past the lump in his throat. Steve stumbled to his feet and lurched forward to grab at Clint and Winter both, fingers grasping at them desperately, tears burning his eyes once more. Clint faltered, would have fallen if not for Winter’s hold on him, on Steve’s arm suddenly wrapping around Clint and Winter both.

He hoped what he meant was being conveyed by the touch, but he couldn’t tell if it had. Relief had him relax as Clint and Winter’s arms snaked around to return the embrace.

“As touching as this all is,” Natasha’s dry voice cut into it. “I’m tired. Get the fuck out and let me rest. I’m sure Stark has more rooms around here to provide a proper bed. Go, use one.” This time, she did sign and Steve felt a chuckle reverberate through his body, a chuckle that wasn’t his own. "And food. You better take care of yourselves or I'll knock all your heads together when I get out of here."

Then they were moving, Clint unfolding from his perch, dropping lightly, barefoot, to the floor. He eased around Steve and swept hair from Natasha’s face and gave her sweet, long kiss. He murmured something directly into her ear and Steve couldn’t hear it. Winter stepped away from the bed after a brief touch of his hand to Natasha’s blanketed feet. Stepping back, Clint raised his arms above his head and Steve listened to the snaps and cracks of his spine popping back into alignment.

To Steve’s surprise, Sam was outside the door when they left Nat’s room. Sam nodded at them congenially. “You guys hungry? I can show you to the common area where the kitchen is.”

“Actually, that sounds like a good idea,” Steve said. “I can’t remember the last time we ate.”

“All right then, follow me,” Sam said, turning about and heading down the hall. Steve fell into step behind him, turning to give Winter and Clint a come gesture when they failed to follow straight off.

Thankfully, the kitchen was empty when they arrived. Sam puttered about, pointing out a few things, but then left them alone for the most part, though he remained in the room. He gave them space, though, while eating his own breakfast.

Steve approved even as Clint and Winter eyed him warily.

Soon enough, they were at their own corner of the room, eating eggs and toast that Winter had made, drinking coffee that Clint had commandeered, forcing Sam to make another pot with a scowl. Clint had just grinned at him and Steve’s heart had jumped.

He’d meant it, what he said. Till the end of the line, even if they pushed him away, he’d be there for them. And seeing moments like this gave him hope that they weren’t quite as broken as they seemed to believe.

They were halfway through breakfast when Sam left the kitchen, moving off to the other half of the space where a large tv rested on the wall. The tv sprang to life, the sound of Loony Tunes winding through the room, and that’s when Clint spoke, soft enough that only Steve could hear.

“You didn’t join us,” Clint said. Steve didn’t speak, wanting to say he didn’t know what Clint was talking about. Clint looked up and speared him with a glance. “In the shower.”

Steve’s breath stuttered because there was no way he could deny he’d been there. “How’d you know?”

“I have more senses than just my ears, you know. We both do. We’d be horrible spies and assets if we couldn’t keep working when we were compromised,” Clint said, so nonchalantly that Steve’s heart squeezed at the casual remark, like it hadn’t meant anything that HYDRA used them like that, had so little regard for the damages done to them, that they sustained.

“He used to talk about you, y’know, in the early days. So fucking much. I hated you and didn’t even know why,” Clint said to Steve without looking up from his breakfast. “At first, I thought it was because you gave him false hope. And he was all I had left after the one person that meant anything to me betrayed us. But it wasn’t just that. I was jealous of what you and he had. And I wanted to tear that away from him, make him mine instead of yours.”

Steve opened his mouth, tried to think of something to say, even as the guilt welled up inside him, because Clint wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t been there for Bucky when it mattered most. He deserved Clint’s hate, his jealousy. Steve’s thoughts whirled, mouth moving wordlessly even though Clint couldn’t hear it, wouldn’t be able to read his lips if Steve didn’t manage to get him to just fucking look  _ up _ – but a hand covered his and he looked over at Winter who shook his head.

“Let him get it out. Whatever he’s saying… it’s easier like this, when we can’t hear ourselves, easier to speak truths, admit to things we normally wouldn’t admit to,” Winter said gruffly. Steve just shook his head, perplexed. Just because you didn’t hear it, didn’t mean it hadn’t been said, hadn’t been  _ heard.  _ That the words weren’t out there.

They meant something, and Clint had just torn his heart out with his breakfast spoon. Steve didn’t think he could eat anymore. Just as that thought crossed his mind, the clanking that preceded the arrival of Tony Stark intruded. Seconds later, Tony appeared.

“Anyone seen Peter?”

Sam craned his head over the back of the couch, looking at Tony upside down. “Naw, man, not since we got back. Y’ask JARVIS?”

Tony rubbed at his forehead. “Of  _ fucking course, _ I asked JARVIS, but the little terror knows how to hack the system. JARVIS can’t see him. I swear to  _ god  _ if he’s gone off patrolling again, I’m gonna… Why does he do this to me? I’m going gray. He’s giving me gray hairs. My heart can’t take this -”

Turning, Tony stalked back out, still mumbling to himself.

Huh, looked like Steve had been wrong on that score.

His eyes dropped back down to the table, to the eggs that had been appetizing only moments before and now tasted like ash in his mouth. What was he, to them? Nat insisted he was more than mere muscle. Clint had painted his shield and Winter’s arm to match. They sought comfort in each other and opened up to one another in ways Steve knew would never happen with anyone else.

But he also felt outside of things, left out. Then Clint said things like that and Steve just wasn’t sure where he stood anymore. The terror he’d felt at nearly losing all of them had been almost incapacitating, his thoughts freezing up, body going on instinct, but if something were to happen to him, would they feel the same?

He wanted to believe yes. There were moments when he  _ did. _

Steve stared down at the plate of eggs like it held the answers to his fucked up questions. He pushed them around with the fork, wincing whenever he scraped the plate, though nobody else would hear it.

“Course, then there you were, right after Loki, and I could see why he’d trust you,” Clint’s voice dropped back into the silence like he’d never stopped. “I’d been compromised in the worst way and you just… you took Nat at her word. Picked me up, dusted me off and let me in, let me do what I could to repair what I’d done. You  _ trusted  _ me, even though you didn’t even  _ know  _ me. Trusted me to do what was right, like it never occurred to you that I could do otherwise.”

Steve’s head slowly moved up, catching on Clint who was still, resolutely,  _ not  _ looking at him.

“You don’t know how much that actually meant to me, so when Winter dragged you out of that fucking river, when he should have killed you, when I should have finished the job…” Clint shrugged. “I’m glad he didn’t, that I followed his lead. That you’re with us. And… I don’t much hate you anymore. Or, like, at all. So, there’s that.”

His heart was going to burst, Steve was sure of it. His eyes were wet, his breath shaky. Warmth was filling him, turning him fuzzy, dizzy, all Steve’s fears and doubts slipping away – at least about this, for now, for the next little while.

Till the next thing hit, till they were going again, non stop, on a mission that might actually kill them all.

But maybe it didn’t have to.

Maybe this, here with Tony and the others, was the start of an alliance that would benefit them all?

God, Steve hoped it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see??? all good :D


	20. A little Nostalgic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets to see a little more of the old Bucky shining through...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a little short, but it's a good chapter. some bittersweet - not quite angst, not quite fluff...

After breakfast, exhaustion hit Steve like a wave. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept and he wasn’t sure the nap at Natasha’s bedside counted, but between the physical toll from the fight, and the emotional whiplash Steve had been undergoing for even longer, Steve just needed to collapse for a bit, catch a breather.

He stared blearily out the gigantic picture windows of the room, Loony Tunes droning on in the background, broken by Sam’s occasional laugh. He blinked, and the window was covered in rain and his head was slipping off his hand, only to be caught by a metal one.

“Hmm?”

Winter gazed at Steve, his face blank, but Steve could see concern in his eyes. “Let’s find one of Stark's fancy beds,” Winter said, abruptly standing and dropping his hand away from Steve’s face. Steve, feeling super sluggish for some reason, blinked up at him stupidly, then around at the rest of the room. Sam was still on the couch, but Clint had gone.

“Where –“

Shaking his head, Winter interrupted him. “Exploring.”

Steve glanced at him sharply. “Your hearing?”

Winter shrugged. “Bits and pieces. Clint’s doing better than I am, but we’re both getting there. Besides, I didn’t need to hear you to know what you’d be asking, punk. You’re so predictable.”

Squashing down the wild surge of hope and nostalgia at the way Winter was talking, like he’d remembered more of  _ them _ , Steve reached for Winter’s ear instead to distract himself, tracing along the edge of it gently. “I don’t think I even  _ know _ how long it would take for my hearing to come back. Wasn’t exactly something I wanted to test.”

Grinning suddenly, cruelly, pain filling his eyes, Winter said. “HYDRA tested both our healing factors, pushing as far as they dared go and then going just a little bit further.” At his side, his metal arm twitched.

Steve drew in a breath, understanding filling him. As miraculous as it was, the healing factor did not grow back entire limbs. Smaller things, sure. But an entire limb? Though Steve supposed, if it were possible, it would take a long damn time, surely more time than anyone would find worth it. Whether or not HYDRA suspected limb regeneration was possible, they had obviously decided it wasn’t worth the wait. Waiting would mean their weapon was out of commission, and they couldn’t have that.

“Don’t,” Winter said sharply, grabbing Steve and yanking him forward. “I don’t need pity.”

The door to the room opened, and Peter wandered in, a book in his hands and his face in the book. He almost collided with winter and Steve but Steve managed to grab hold of Peter first. Winter backed up an uneasy step as Peter looked up from the book.

“Oh, hey guys. Man, you look like shit.” Peter’s eyes went wide. “Uh, I mean, um…”

Winter snorted, looking at Peter almost… indulgently. “No kid, don't lie. He does. Time for bed, Stevie. Let's look for Stark.”

“Wait, you need a room?” Peter asked eagerly. “Hey, Jarvis?”

“Yes, Master Peter. Talking to me again?”

Peter winced. “Sorry J. Is dad mad?”

“He is worried. As was I.”

“Sorry. Hey, did dad set up a room for our guests?”

“Indeed, he did. I can provide directions, if they so wish,” JARVIS said.

Before Steve could answer, Winter’s arm had suddenly darted forward and had snagged Peter’s book right out of the surprised kid’s hands. Peter squawked in surprise but Winter ignored him, tucking a metal finger into the book to keep Peter's place but turning it over to read the back. It was the first time Steve had seen him interested in anything other then them or HYDRA and he held his breath.

“You like to read?” Peter asked.

“I did. I think,” Winter said, slowly.

“Do you want to borrow that? I have access to almost every book online, thanks to dad and JARVIS, but I love having my favorites like this. I’ve read it before, if you want to,” Peter said in an eager rush.

Winter hummed, nodded, and without a word of thanks, closed the book and walked away.

Steve clapped his hand on Peter's shoulder, smiling broadly. Bucky had  _ loved  _ to read, way back when. He’d read anything he could get his hands on but particularly had loved the sci fi stuff. “Thanks, Peter,” he said gratefully.

“Of course, Captain Rogers,” Peter said, before slipping away into the room proper. Steve looked through the doorway to find Bucky a few feet down the hall, propped on the wall with the book already open, his eyes scanning over the pages even quicker than Steve remembered him being capable of.

“JARVIS? I’m ready for the directions now,” Steve said, feeling a little silly to be talking to air.

“Very good, sir.”

The book, it turned out,  _ was _ a sci fi. Winter didn’t put it down once, following Steve through the corridors like a baby duck and a mama duck, while Steve divided his attention between sneaking peeks at Winter from the corner of his eye, and following the AI’s directions.

They made it to one of the largest rooms Steve had ever seen a bed in, and certainly one of the largest beds he’d ever seen in the whole of his life. Jesus, all four of them could easily fit on that monstrosity.

Winter put the book down on a nightstand long enough to take off his boots, divest himself of a few knives and guns – also placed on the nightstand – before making himself comfortable on the bed and bringing the book back up to read. Steve stared at him dumbly for far too long, the view before him overlaid with one of Bucky, youthful faced, short haired and smiling, lounging on their tiny bed and laughing as he read his book to Steve one of the many times Steve had been sick. He’d been curled over Bucky’s chest, his heartbeat and his voice lulling him into a content, almost restful sleep.

It wasn’t always when Steve was sick, but it was as much a tradition as chicken soup had been when he was.

“You comin’, Stevie?” Bucky asked.

“Y-yeah,” Steve choked out, stumbling forward and shedding clothes till he was down to his boxers and crawling under the covers. He reached for Winter, then drew back, laying down on the pillow so he didn’t disturb him. Bucky sighed and drew Steve onto his chest. “get up here, you punk.”

Throat tight, eyes wet, Steve scrambled to obey, laying his head over Bucky. As his eyes drooped, the exhaustion catching up to him yet again, Bucky’s voice washed over him, reading to him, like the old days.

Steve’s arm curled over Bucky’s waist and clung hard, wishing, desperately to hold on fast to this specter of the past, that at least maybe some of it would remain behind in the days – and hopefully months and years – to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, Steve accidentally switched up names in his head again. that's not a writer fucked up type thing (Not this time lol)


	21. Slip up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets a little too lost in some memories...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, i hope everyone's staying safe - i'm still working, and they're working on hiring more people so they can open the plant up 24/7, 7 days a week.
> 
> on top of that...my mom's been in the hospital for... jesus, over two weeks. but she's finally starting to do better. i won't go into details, but you can take a guess and be at least partially right.
> 
> So that means i'm focusing mainly on WIPS (like this one) and 3 other fics that get priority (2 Marvel Trumps Hate and a sorta Reverse Bang), with bingo squares as breaks for my brain. cause writing is my happy place and is gonna keep me sane. i've ordered a bluetooth keyboard so i can at least write on my phone while i'm at work.
> 
> we'll see how well that goes, lol *crosses fingers*

“I told you they would turn on us. They had to be put down,” Stark said, blood covering him, obscuring the gold of his Iron Man suit, the bodies of Nat, Clint and Winter strewn around him.

Steve couldn’t breathe, staring down at their broken bodies unbelieving, their unseeing eyes staring back at him, right through him -

_ No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening. _

Steve woke with a choked gasp, his hands shaking, hell, his whole body was. He looked about him, but it was only him and Winter, in the bed, again, still curled together where Steve had fallen asleep on him. He looked at Winter, at the hair splayed out on the pillow, his open mouth and light snore. Steve felt the line of heat of his body where Steve was  _ still _ draped over him, felt the rise and fall of Bucky’s  chest, and tried to breathe himself

They were fine. It had been a few days. Nat was recovering, Clint was exploring Tony’s little compound, they were _ safe _ . They even had a routine, now, him and Bucky coming to bed and reading together till they fell asleep. Each day b oth Winter and Clint’s hearing was better, each day Nat was too, though the doctor had recommended she stay in the medical wing.

Sometimes Clint fell asleep with them, sometimes he didn’t. He didn’t tell Steve where he was disappearing, didn’t answer when asked either. That worried Steve, right up until Clint distracted him with sex.

He should probably be ashamed at how well that worked.

Last night, though, it had  been just him and Bucky and while Bucky had still been reading when Steve had drifted off, Bucky had obviously fallen asleep at some point as well. The book was carefully set aside, but his eyes were blinking open as he caught Steve in his hands.

He didn’t say anything, understanding filling his eyes as he ran a hand gently over Steve’s head, an old soothing motion that had Steve’s breath hitching. The other came to settle around his back and Steve relaxed into the hold as best he could –

But the nightmare still had hold of his mind. And it was  _ Tony’s  _ place they were in, and Tony who had starred in his dream. It was just a nightmare, not a prophecy, using Steve’s fears against him.

And that made him angry, because he wanted to believe everything would work out fine, that they weren’t the rabid dogs Tony had first accused them of being, that they wouldn’t turn.

But what did  _ Steve _ know? He’d been wrong before. His doubts weren’t so much of them, but of his own ability to trust himself.

He shivered again and Bucky pulled him closer, almost gently.

"Bucky..." Steve breathed, tears gathering in his eyes at the soft touch, the warmth of him, of the memories that had been roused the  past few nights returning now, in this moment.

Bucky's –  _ Winter’s! Fuck, how had he forgotten that? _ \- metal arm tightened, the plates shifting and pinching along Steve's skin as his face went blank

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Steve gasped out. "It's hard. You don’t look quite the same anymore, but you were still him once, and," he raised a hand to push back Winters hair. "You don't act much like him though, but then you do. " Steve shrugged, wincing at his slipup, expecting Winter to explode like he had before, but instead Winter froze, his expression  shifting to something broken, his fingers shaking.

“I’m not him, I  _ won’t _ be  _ called _ him,” Winter said in a hoarse voice, sitting up, forcing Steve to roll off him and sit up as well.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered. “I still love him, you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Winter said, a plaintive note in his voice striking Steve hard.

“Maybe, but,” Steve paused. Winter waited,  wide eyes fixed  on Steve. “There’s still some of him in you, enough for me to learn the new you and… and still fall for you just as hard as I ever did before. It’s still there. You’re not him… but you’re not Winter either, not, not what HYDRA made you. You’re something new. A new… a new  _ person.” _

Steve caught a glimpse of wet eyes before Winters head drooped, his hair obscuring his face. He breathed erratically but was otherwise quiet a long, long time. Steve wondered if he’d fucked up  more than could be repaired and then Winter fell forward, fingers clutching at Steve’s shoulders, head hitting the center of Steve’s chest.

“I can… I can be a new person,” he whispered.

“A new person needs a new name,” Clint said suddenly, appearing from nowhere. He carded fingers into Winter’s hair. “You’re making yourself, now. You deserve whatever name you want.”

Winter shuddered, and Steve heard a sob break from him and he didn’t let himself second guess it, he just wrapped his arms around Winter, pulling him close, Clint’s hands shifting to wrap around both of them, leaving Steve warm. If only Nat were here too.

They sat that way a good long while, with Steve wondering where Clint had been,  but knowing he wouldn’t get an answer . 

At least, not yet.

Eventually they shifted to lay down together, Winter calmed enough that his tears had dried and he’d settled in to rest between them. Steve missed being the little spoon to Winter’s big spoon, but this, being able to wrap himself around Winter, to comfort him and to be comforted  in return j ust by his presence was… was something else.

Something he’d once thought lost to him forever.

That he could add Clint and Nat into that was more amazing then Steve could say, regardless of his nightmares and fears.

The past few days had been surreal, a strange domestic limbo. Steve had found it hard to adjust to not having a mission. He couldn’t remember the last time he  _ didn’t _ . Clint disappearing on them, and Nat kicking them all out of her recovery room for hovering hadn’t made things easier. But Winter had seemed to take it easiest of all, content to distance himself from the rest of the compound and read the books Peter lent him.

But then moments like these happened and Steve was reminded all too clearly of how broken Winter still was, how much he still was unable to handle. If a thing so simple as a name could fuck with Winter’s head so much…

“Why doesn’t this hit you as hard as Winter? Why is he having a harder time with, I don’t know, everything?” Steve couldn’t help but ask, the words bitter in a way even he wasn’t sure he understood. “Why is he more  _ broken _ than you?”

Maybe now was not the time or the place, his own words to Barney being thrown back to him by his own mind – fucking hypocrite – but how could Steve hope to understand them if he didn’t ask?

“You don’t think I’m just as broken?” Clint glared over Winter at Steve. Winter curled into him, a hand reaching for Clint and holding on, tightly. Clint deflated, sighing, and ran a hand through Winter’s hair as he cradled him. Steve’s hand hovered over Winter’s ribs till it was grabbed by Winter himself and pulled between his and Clint’s body, tugging Steve closer against his back. “Cause I am, and I already told ya I was.”

“It seems different, though, more…” Steve floundered. “Severe, maybe?”

“I was allowed more freedoms,  Steve. They could never really wipe me the way they had him, and trust me, they fucking  _ tried _ . I was… still a person. Twisted up, broken, but a person. I even ‘got away’ for a little while, allowed to play the part of Hawkeye as part of SHIELD. Through it all, I was able to keep little bits of myself. Winter wasn’t afforded the same luxuries.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered. “You know that, right? If I had even an inkling of an idea that he was still alive, I’d have fought harder to get out before I went down in the ice. I’d have come after him, save him like he’d always done for me, and when I found him, I’d have brought you out too. I’m sorry for the hell you all went through and I wish to god I could change it.”

“The past is past,” Clint said with a shrug, as if it were all that easy to shrug it off. “Can’t change the bad things so it’d be better to dwell on the good ones.”

“Never had enough of those,” Winter whispered suddenly, showing he’d been listening. “So we tended to make our own and tried to hold onto them. I forgot so many –“

Clint leaned forward, tapping his and Winter’s head together, their lips a hairbreadth away from each other. “So we do what we always do. We make new ones, as often and as many as we can. Perk, they’re not being taken from us, not ever again.”

“I’ll kill anyone who tries,” Steve growled suddenly, thoughts flashing back to that awful moment on the battlefield when they’d taken their own hearing.

“I know, Stevie,” Winter said, squeezing his fingers. He sounded… surprised, but pleased. “I know.”

Clint suddenly smirked. “What do you say? Let’s make some new ones right now?” he asked, his voice going low and husky, an answering pull hitting Steve’s cock.

Winter chuckled. “Stevie’s up for it,” he drawled,  shifting his ass against Steve, making Steve groan, then blush at how easily they could turn him on.

“Good,” Clint said. “I want to see how  _ loud  _ he can get…”


	22. Body Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepy morning sex turns into much, much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint Barton Bingo - Multiple Orgasms
> 
> And this is it for the beta'd chapters. i have more written, i promise. i wanted to wait but this hits a square and the bingo is ending soon.. so you get a bonus chapter today in addition to other stuff i've posted today ;D

Steve woke slowly, cocooned in strong arms, surrounded by warmth and the musky and metal smells of both Winter and Clint. His hips hitched forwards without thinking, slow and drowsily, lips mouthing over Winter’s neck softly. Fingers moving of their own accord, Steve traced patterns over Winter’s bare stomach, his cock already hard. It wasn’t a frantic thing though, frantic had been last night. This was something else. Something… softer.

Still gently thrusting his hips against Winter’s backside, letting his cock slide along his ass, feeling an answering hardness against his own, Steve’s hands wandered, sliding, coming down to cup Winter’s cock, palm pressing against Winter’s thick –

And Steve froze as he finally blinked a little further awake. He closed his eyes, head leaning into Winter’s neck as he breathed in shakily. Fuck. What was wrong with him? Winter was  _ asleep. _

“Steve…?” Winter asked, his voice sounding so much more like Bucky than Steve had heard in so, so long. No, don’t think like that. Thinking like that led to mistakes like the one he’d made yesterday. “Why’dya stop?”

“You were sleeping,” Steve stammered. “I’m sorry…”

A hand snaked over his ribcage, Clint pushing tightly against Steve’s back. “Think he didn’t mind where this was going,” Clint murmured into Steve’s ear. It wasn’t soft enough for Winter not to catch it and he suddenly ground back on Steve’s dick and Steve gasped.

“Ohhh, fuck…”

Clint’s fingers slid, tickled and traced their way along Steve’s suddenly sweat soaked skin, Steve’s stomach muscles jumping under the light touch. He moaned, thrusting more harshly against Winter when Clint found his nipples and pinched and played with them.

“Mm… Boobies. Almost as responsive as Nat’s,” Clint said breathlessly into his ears, his dick sliding between Steve’s thighs. Steve whined and panted, arching back into Clint, his hand going lax over Winter’s cock. “I love it,” Clint whispered, just before biting down lightly on the lobe of Steve’s ear.

Steve cried out, pressed so tightly between them he could barely move, his dick sliding between Winter’s ass cheeks, slicking the way with precome. They shifted around him, surrounded him, with soft sensations, their warm and hard bodies, with breathless groans and wordless gasps, sliding fingers and torturous mouths.

Gently, slowly, Steve came apart between them, just like that, painting up Winter’s back when he came, down the crevice of Winter’s ass and feeling Clint’s own release between his thighs, Winters, over his hand.

When Steve could finally think straight again, he blinked and stretched – and saw Natasha sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Nat?” he heard Clint ask. Winter’s head shot up as they all struggled past the post orgasmic bliss to sit up and face her.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting, healing.” Steve shifted.

“I was. I am. But I needed to check on my boys.”

Warmth blossomed through Steve at the admission, followed by worry – for her current injury, for her future according to Tony’s words.

“Still, your wound –“

“Is fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I heal faster than those bozos think. And how often do we get a bed like this?” She ran a hand over the rumpled bedcovers and smirked up at them, but there was something yearning and sad in her eyes. “It would be stupid for us not to take advantage of it – though I already see you three thought ahead on that one. You wouldn’t want to leave me out, now would you?”

Steve went to protest again, but Bucky covered his mouth before he could, even as Clint stood and reached for Natasha, bringing her to her feet and kissing her soundly before pulling back and resting their foreheads together. He towered over her normally, but now, clad only in a flimsy hospital gown, Nat looked downright  _ small. _

Or was it the new found knowledge Tony had given him that gave Steve that impression? Was he projecting?

“You scared us,” Clint said, the words half choked.

“I know. I’m sorry,” she said simply, cupping his jaw. Clint leaned into it, closing his eyes and Steve swore he saw tears waiting to be shed before he did. “Let me make it up to you.”

Clint shook his head, turned to Steve and Winter, and despite wet bright eyes, some sort of communication passed between them without a word said or a sign made and Steve wanted to be jealous of it but he was so tired of all those negative feelings, especially when he wanted to focus on here and now, and  _ them _ .

All of them.

This was a rare moment of peace, a breather they could – mostly – trust. No need to watch their backs, because there were others here who could. They could afford to lay around naked in bed, to be vulnerable for a few moments or more.

Winter’s hand left Steve’s mouth.

“No,” Winter said suddenly. “We’re going to worship you like the goddess you are.”

Steve’s breath caught. Those words were more Bucky-like than Winter-like, even the old drawl making itself known in the tangle of words. Every day he saw more and more of the old Bucky surfacing, interfacing with Winter and making a new person. It was… heartbreakingly beautiful, to watch this man take the tattered pieces of himself and pull together a new being, creating a new whole.

He wondered what new name he would choose, or when he would be ready for that step.

As this revelation rattled through his brain, Steve felt Winter’s hands on him and then his back was against the headboard, his legs spread open and wide and Nat was laying against him, laying back in his arms, head tilted to rest on his shoulder, her eyes looking up and catching his.

“Keep her still,” Clint murmured, placing Steve’s hands on Nat’s hips. “Don’t let her tear her stitches.”

Nodding dumbly, Steve stared down at Nat, down Nat’s body, to Winter’s head slowly moving downwards, hands pulling down Nat’s panties as he went. She gasped, suddenly, arching into Steve and he tightened his hands, one staying on her hip, the other carefully sliding up to her stomach, under the hospital gown that Clint was already working to remove, avoiding the bandage and gently pressing down.

Steve hooked his chin over her shoulder, watching Winter take her apart with his fingers and his tongue, felt the minute trembling of her body against his. She gasped and gasped again when Winter slid his hands up over her thighs and pushed her legs apart. Steve watched Winter’s tongue dart into red curls and whimpered at the sight, wished he could see better. She rocked against Steve, against his hands, but Steve held firm, even as his  _ cock  _ firmed, rubbing against her ass. Everywhere they touched was a delicious burn on his skin and he groaned.

Twisting, he mouthed over her neck, kissing softly along the delicate column of her throat. His fingers twitched where they held her in place, desperate to slide over her smooth skin. His eyes fluttered open when she jerked and gasped again, the gasp cutting off, only to find that Clint had covered her breasts, cupping them and flicking her nipples with his thumb as they kissed deeply.

The kiss was sensuous, Clint pulling back after a moment to tease at her lips with his tongue, and Steve cursed that he couldn’t see how their mouths met more clearly. But then Clint slid away from her mouth across her jaw, meeting  _ Steve’s  _ lips, ducking down to brush them together, then apart, a series of wet, soft kisses, open mouthed and taunting, before he finally slipped his tongue inside Steve’s mouth.

It was electric, that first touch of their tongues together, as each touch after was, sending spikes of pleasure through him. Steve groaned, then groaned again when Clint pulled away, focusing his attention back on Nat.

“Ah, ah, my beautiful boys,” she panted. Her hips tensed under Steve’s fingers and he tightened his grip on her. Between her legs, all he could see was Winter’s hair, his head bobbing up and down in small movements. “Nnnng… Feels so good,” she said, one hand falling into Winter’s hair and grabbing hold, pressing him closer. Steve could feel the rumble vibrating off him and through Nat. She came quietly, soft, cut off moans, before relaxing back into Steve’s grip with a boneless slump. Winter sat back on his heels, licking at his puffed lips, at the juices covering his face, his eyes dilated. Clint snagged Winter by the neck and drew him in, licking over the messy areas of Winter’s face.

“Oh,” Nat hummed, her back arching as best as it could under Steve’s grasp. “Oh, please.”

“Please what?” Steve murmured into her neck. Her head tilted more to give him room and he took full advantage of it, tasting her skin, a tingle on his tongue and lips from the prolonged exposure, but not unpleasant.

Though it was an unpleasant reminder of… no, not right now, he wasn’t thinking of that  _ now. _

Despite the minor distraction, he didn’t miss the way her hand snaked down her body, fingers extending between her legs and he groaned. Suddenly, all he could think of was fucking into her and his chest heaved against her back.

“Do it,” she said breathlessly, still quite capable of taking charge. “Fuck me  _ now,  _ Rogers.”

“Hey, this is  _ our _ show,” Clint pouted, pulling away from Winter, leaving him dazed and swaying in Clint’s arms.

“Then get  _ on  _ with it already,” Nat tossed back. Her hand continued to move and her toes curled and Steve whimpered with his need as she wriggled.

Clint moved, kneeling between Steve’s legs, Winter pressed up against his back, and Clint leaned in, kissing Nat, sliding his hands back down over her breasts, her ribs, skimming over the bandages without once breaking the kiss. He worked his fingers under Steve’s, taking their place on Natasha’s body and Steve felt her lifted.

He shifted, his hand going to his cock and hissing when he made contact. Fuck, he was already so hard, even though he’d already come this morning, not to mention all the times the night before.

Pumping his hand along his shaft once, twice, Steve held steady when Nat leaned back and whispered  _ stop  _ into his ear. Then Clint lined her up and brought her down on his cock, controlling the pace, torturously slow. Steve shifted, went to move, to thrust up –

And found his legs held down by Winter who was smirking at him over Clint’s shoulder.

“Uh, uh, at our pace, Stevie,” Winter said. “Don’t want to strain Natasha’s injury, do you?”

Steve’s head slammed back into the headboard, eyes squeezing shut. Nat was tight and wet around him and he was burning up, legs straining against Winter’s grip. Finally, she was sat down in his lap, his dick buried deep inside her, both of them panting hard.

He opened his eyes again, unable to  _ not _ look at her, at the pretty red flush over her shoulders as he brushed his fingers over them, nuzzled into her neck and sucked lightly.

Clint crowded close, his hands rubbing up and down her hips and thighs. She trembled in Steve’s arms, Steve taking full advantage of his hands now being free to dance lightly over her ribcage, gently caress her arms. He brushed featherlight touches to her breasts, her nipples, enjoying each soft gasp, each frustrated little moan.

Between Clint and Winter, they rocked Nat slowly over Steve’s dick. She squeezed around his cock and Steve groaned, pinching harder at her nipple that he’d intended when she did. She did it again, and again, breathless words panted into the air, hovering between them –

Then Clint leaned closer still and kissed Nat, stealing her words but making her keen and clutch at them all. Winter nudged in, angling for his own kiss, and soon they were sharing a messy, breathless, four way kiss.

This was far from the desperate fucking they’d done. Or the type that had fireworks behind Steve’s eyes. It wasn’t hard and fast. Instead, it was slow and languid and somehow, just as needy. Everyone was pressed so close now, that Steve couldn’t see what was going on, could only feel Nat around him, on him, the lips and tongues of all of them. Hear groaning, gasping, slick moving.

Winter was hard against Steve’s thigh, holding him down with body weight now instead of his hands, grinding down on Steve even as he spread his kisses among all three of them. Cint gasped suddenly, his head dropping to Nat’s shoulder and her hand coming up to tug at his hair.

“Not over my bandages, Clint,” Nat said, head lolling back into Steve. “You can wait.”

Clint whined and Bucky snickered, just before he swallowed Steve’s tongue. With each moment, Steve’s need slowly built, his cock aching for release. He rolled Natasha’s pebbled nipples between his fingers, felt her tense against him, around him and shudder her release.

A finger slid along the shaft of his cock, easing it’s way inside Nat – he had no idea who’s – and that was it for Steve. He stiffened, coming hard with a bit of a shout, his hands flattening to cover Nat’s breasts and gather her tightly against him, using his leverage and strength to fight against the weight of two men and push upwards into her heat just a little bit more.

The two of them lay there, spent while Winter continued to rock against Steve’s thigh, while Clint eased Natasha off of Steve, to the bed. He brushed her hair away from her sweaty face and she grasped his hand, kissing the palm of it with a warm look in her eyes.

“I want you both to come all over Steve, make him messy,” she said. Clint grinned, a glint in his eye when he turned toward Steve and Winter.

“That would be my genuine… _ pleasure,” _ he said.

Steve would have groaned at how awful that was, but then Clint was kneeling over his other thigh, cock in hand, and he was jerking his hand over his shaft, biting his lip. Steve licked his in sympathy, in the sudden, heavy desire to bite at Clint’s lip himself. _ Fuck _ , he thought, his eyes roving down over Clint’s body, over Winter’s. He’d already seen them both as naked as this many times, but they were, as Nat, just as beautiful, every damn time.

How were they so  _ beautiful? _

Then they came, in a feat of incredible timing, nearly together, Winter spilling over Steve first, coating his thigh in thick white ropes, then Clint - considerably closer to Steve - came too, hitting Steve’s abdomen and still heaving chest.

Nat rolled over with a hum and a slight hiss, her fingers trailing through the come, spreading it about till she splayed her now sticky hand over Steve’s heart. He stared down at her, speechless, covering her hand with his. Seconds later, so were Winter’s and Clint’s and Steve’s breath was catching for another reason entirely.

The moment was so soft, so incredibly  _ warm _ , that was melting Steve right into the bed, and though he’d slept already, he found his eyes drooping once more. They’d burned up a lot of energy the night before, and then twice that morning.

Nothing… wrong with… a little… nap…

He blinked slowly as they shifted on the bed, pulling Steve down to lay flat. Whatever this was, at Tony’s, this emergency turned enforced interlude – it was almost a vacation, a breather. Something they had desperately needed and hadn’t even realized.

This was good for them, and as they all cuddled in together, Steve was glad they were here.

Steve fell asleep, still covered in come and absolutely content in that moment.


	23. For Want of a Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter bonds with Peter and Tony freaks out. Just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fill for the Bucky Barnes Bingo - Square: CAT!
> 
> ALSO WE ARE OFFICIALLY FINISHED - my beta has read through it all and i'm ready to post the final chapters :D there are 2 more chapters and an epilogue left and there are some pretty intense scenes coming up. i have really enjoyed Lirael's comments on the fic as she reads (these last ones have been great. i think she almost strangled me once!)

The breather continued as Nat rested up. Steve had thought Clint and Winter would go stir crazy, but he was surprised to find it wasn’t so. At least, not exactly.

When they weren’t being physical in the – Steve hesitated to call it a gym – they were definitely being physical in the intimate sense. But that didn’t kill all the time they suddenly had dropped on their hands.

Steve was glad to find that Nat was spending time in medical for the scans T’Challa had mentioned. He crossed his fingers, hoping that they’d come up with  _ something _ that could help her long term problem. He didn’t delude himself into thinking it would happen right away, but he couldn’t help but hope for a fucking miracle. Weren’t they about due?

Clint disappeared a few times and at first, Steve was worried about that, until he realized every disappearance coincided with Barney’s presence. Knowing what Steve knew now, he felt guilty that he hadn’t sat Clint down and talked with him about his brother, but Clint wasn’t ready and Steve didn’t want to force him.

Winter was who Steve worried about most, still learning who he was, still with combat trained instincts and fear triggers. HYDRA had done a number on all of them, and it showed.

Most of the time, Winter seemed content enough to just read, aided and abetted by Peter and JARVIS – not that Steve was going to stop him from finding something he enjoyed. And this glimpse of the Bucky Winter had once been was a balm to Steve’s heart. Knowing that there was still something of his old friend in Winter made it a little easier to bear.

Sometimes.

And other times, it made it harder, Steve would have to admit.

Still, even with the rediscovered joy of reading, Steve could see that it didn’t take much to overwhelm Winter to the point of leaving the building and wandering the grounds.

Not sure if he should leave Winter to roam as he would, not with some of the other volatile tempers residing there, Steve attempted to follow.

It didn’t go well.

“I just want some goddamn space, you fucking punk! I ain’t gonna hurt someone unless you fellas keep crowding me!” Winter rounded on Steve with clenched fists, the words snapping out and hitting Steve harder than the blows he’d gotten from Winter on the helicarrier.

Steve backed up a step, stunned.

“Winter, I’m sorry. We just – I’m just – “ Steve trailed off, unsure what to say, how to explain that he was worried without Winter feeling like Steve didn’t  _ trust  _ him, and it wasn’t that at  _ all… _

But others there didn’t, and that was a simple fact.

“You don’t follow  _ him  _ around like a watchdog,” Winter snarled, turning on his heel and stalking off.

Steve made to follow before thinking better of it, Clint tugging on Steve’s sleeve.

“Let him be,” he murmured. “He’s just going outside. Not like Stark doesn’t have this whole place fucking wired for surveillance anyway. We can’t  _ really  _ go anywhere without him knowing.” He paused thoughtfully. “Unless you’re Peter, apparently, though not from lack of trying.”

With a slightly queasy stomach, hoping he wasn’t about to cause more damage by  _ not  _ keeping a closer eye on Winter, Steve took Clint’s advice and didn’t go after him, Clint doing his damndest to distract Steve whenever Winter went off by himself.

Which, actually, worked quite well.

Steve took a lot of showers over the next few days.

After one such distraction – and subsequent shower – Steve made his way into the kitchen area for lunch, Clint close behind. He’d hoped to see Nat, but she’d been spending too much time with the doctors and if they could help, Steve definitely didn’t want to interrupt – just so long as she wasn’t having any complications from her injury.

Tony and the doctors assured Steve, Winter  _ and _ Clint that Nat was not having any issues, and that she was, in fact, healing much faster than they’d expected. So that was something, at least.

But when he stepped into the kitchen, he found Peter and Winter crouched in a corner by the big windows, leaning in close to each other.

It wasn’t much of a surprise to see Peter and Winter together at all, not when Peter was the source of all the books Winter had been reading. That was another thing in Winter’s favor, actually. Steve could remember, before, how gentle Bucky had always been with kids. It was something that he’d stuck to, according to Clint, despite punishments for disobeying orders, despite the brainwashing that they’d used to tear out every bit of humanity in him.

They hadn’t succeeded.

No, the surprise was that they were shoulder to shoulder, their backs to the room, heads bent together. Peter was practically giggling as he whispered to Winter. Winter looked up and there was a look of such happiness and wonder on his face that it stole Steve’s breath away.

What were they  _ doing  _ over there?

Before he could take more than a step forward, Tony clanked his way into the kitchen and froze.

“What the fuck is Terminator doing anywhere near my kid?” Tony shouted, stomping forward.

The sound jolted both Peter and Winter, Peter turning and sending Tony a large, bright smile, while Winter went stiff, his shoulders hunching inward. It looked almost as if he was curling protectively around something. What the hell?

“Tony, it’s all right! Look! Mr. Winter found them!”

“Found  _ what,  _ exactly?” Tony asked suspiciously. Steve hurried to intercept, finally getting a good look at what had so captivated Peter and Winter’s attention.

A box of kittens.

And Winter was curled protectively around a small, white one, it’s little face reaching up to nuzzle just under Winter’s chin. Winter looked down and melted - that was the only word Steve could think of to describe what he was witnessing in that moment – reaching his hand out to gently pet and scritch along the kitten’s ears with his metal finger.

Far from put off, the kitten pushed its head into the metal hand. Winter smiled dazedly at the kitten.

“What?” Steve asked helplessly.

“Oh no,” Tony said. “What have I said about pets? And where the fuck did you guys find a box of kittens anyway?”

Peter shrugged. “Dunno, Winter found them.” He turned pleading eyes on Tony. “Please, Tony? They’re homeless and motherless! We gotta help them!”

“Yeah, we  _ help  _ them by finding them homes,” Tony said firmly. Peter deflated. Tony sighed. “Okay, one. You can keep  _ one _ but then we’re finding homes for the rest of them.”

Winter scowled at Tony. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Tony asked incredulously as he stared at Winter. Winter refused to look at him, still cradling the little white kitten.

“I want to keep this one,” he said.

Steve’s stomach twisted. How could he say  _ no  _ to that? To Winter asking for something? And yet… they still had a mission, one that could kill them in the end. They had no time or space for a kitten.

“Winter – “ Steve floundered, looking at Clint helplessly. Surely he had to understand, right? But instead, Steve found Clint sliding bonelessly to the ground beside Winter and cooing at the little kitten.

“He’s adorable!” Clint exclaimed. Steve stared. Clint reached for the kitten, petting it with calloused fingers.  _ How  _ could he say no to this? To  _ both  _ of them?

“I’m gonna call him Alpine,” Winter said. He glared defiantly at Steve and Tony. Beside him, Peter had sprawled out beside the box and he and Clint were playing with the kittens.

“Yeah,” Steve said weakly. “But it’ll need a place to stay until everything’s over.”

Winter’s glare transferred back to Tony even as Peter piped up.

“We can keep him here, for you,” Peter said. “Right Tony?”

“Kid, you can’t just volunteer –“

Peter bounced up, bounding over to Tony’s side, grabbing hold of the man’s hands. “This is my house too, right? That’s what you keep saying. And shouldn’t we be good hosts?”

“Fine,” Tony said with deep resignation and a look on his face that clearly said he had no idea how he’d gotten into this. Peter grinned, throwing his arms around Tony before returning to the pile of kittens and assassins without a care in the world. Maybe he hadn’t one. Steve had seen the kid’s strength. He wasn’t entirely sure either Clint  _ or _ Winter could overpower him with strength alone.

Experience, sure, but Steve really hoped it never became something they’d find out about.

Tony sighed. “I think I need a fucking drink. Want one?” he asked Steve.

Steve nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think I kinda do.”

Him and Tony had settled onto a couch not too far from the trio and the box of kittens, drinking while Steve bemusedly watched that white kitten with the long tail clambering over Winter’s form. Winter sat mostly still for the kitten, letting it use him as it’s personal gymnasium.

Finally, he relaxed enough to chat with Tony and was therefore caught completely off guard when Peter reached for Winter’s arm, at the kitten tenderly placing its little feet along the metal as Winter held his arm out straight and steady for it.

“Did it hurt?” Peter asked.

Steve froze, heart in his throat, as did every other adult in the room – when had Sam and Nat shown up? Winter, strangely enough, didn’t.

Instead, his gaze shifted from the kitten to Peter, awe crossing his features.  Winter simply stared at the kid, his mouth dropping a little,  at the way Peter was gently sliding his fingers over Winter’s forearm before blushing and pulling away, finally noticing how  _ everyone  _ was staring at him.

“I’m sorry! That was rude of me!”

“You aren’t afraid of it?” Winter asked, his voice harsh and low. Clint tucked into his side, wrapping an arm around Winter’s middle. The kitten made it up to the top of Winter’s shoulder, still painted from Clint, and bumped its head into Clint’s face, sniffing at his hair before turning and nuzzling into Winter’s neck, as if seeking to comfort him.

Peter shook his head. “Why should I be?”

“It’s hurt people.  _ I’ve _ hurt people.”

“You’ve never hurt me,” Peter said, as innocently as only a child could, even one who’d seen as much as Peter had. “Besides, that wasn’t you, right? That was HYDRA. They hurt you and made you do things. And now we’re stopping them from doing that to anyone else, aren’t we?”

Winter nodded stiffly, his eyes looking suspiciously bright. Peter beamed at him but Steve still caught something sad in it. “Does it feel good to fight them? Getting your revenge?” Peter said, biting at his lip and looking down, picking at his shirtsleeves. He looked up again.

“This isn’t about revenge,” Steve broke in. “It’s about doing what’s right.”

Clint buried his face in Winter’s hair, hiding his face, but Steve could see the way his fingers had tightened on Winter.

Tony gave Steve an incredulous look, rolling his eyes and snorting. “Sure, Steve. You think they’re gonna keep fighting, keep doing what’s ‘right’, after they find all the brainwashing devices?”

“They’ll have done their part. It’s more than enough and they deserve some peace,” Steve growled at Tony.

“Yeah, I can agree with that. I just don’t want you deluding yourself that they’re doing this for entirely altruistic reasons.”

“Does it matter if they are or aren’t? The end result is the same. A safer, better place for them and everyone else,” Steve pointed out, glaring at Tony.

“It did,” Winter’s voice was still low, a little less rough and Steve and Tony tore their gazes from each other to find that Winter and Peter were completely ignoring them. “Still does, though not as much as getting it did. You should be afraid of it.”

Peter shrugged, then shook his head. “No way, man. Your arm is just an arm. A really awesomely hi-tech one but I bet Tony could make you a better one! I bet it wouldn’t even hurt!”

“Now, Peter – I highly doubt Barnes wants me messing around with his arm,” Tony’s voice was cautious and Steve knew what he was really saying – he didn’t want to upgrade Winter’s arm, because Winter was unstable, and what if he went off and hurt more people? Then Tony would be responsible for it. “The last thing he wants is another scientist poking and prodding at him.”

“But Tony – we can make it better, make it stop hurting –“

“It’s okay, Peter,” Winter said. “I’m used to it. I don’t even really notice it much anymore.”

Tony winced. “Okay, now I have guilt. Great. Thanks a lot.”

He stomped away, clanking with each step and Steve stared after him bewildered. Natasha curled in beside him, pulling the forgotten drink out of his hand and hooking her chin over his shoulder, her hair brushing his face.

“I haven’t seen either of them looking that peaceful outside of our bed in a long time,” she said softly.

Steve’s breath stuttered, reaching for one of Nat’s hands and closing his eyes. She was right. He knew being here had been good for all of them, on some level, but he hadn’t realized  _ how  _ good.

When this was over, if they succeeded, he hoped they could find a place to live in peace.


	24. Something Overdue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve really would have preferred if Barney had given Clint more time, but Barney wasn't wrong that _he_ might not have the time to spare before they were all off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a confrontation in this chapter. i mean, we've had some fairly tame chapters recently in that regard, so i figured i'd give a heads up that things were ramping up again. we're closing in on that end!!

Steve was coming back from a discussion with Tony – they’d had some new intel about HYDRA and it was about time they got moving on that again, there were no more excuses for a delay – and with T’Challa (to discuss the progress on Nat) when he heard voices, hissed and angry, swiftly approaching higher volumes. He paused. Fuck, he knew one of those voices  _ very  _ well.

He hurried around the corner to find Clint and his brother glaring at each other.

“If you would just  _ listen  _ to me – “ Barney said, reaching for Clint.

Clint shoved his hand aside. “There’s nothing you can say that will make up for your betrayal! Leave me the  _ fuck  _ alone.”

Steve winced. This had been inevitable.

“Clint – “ Steve didn’t want to get in the middle of a brotherly feud, but he had the feeling Clint didn’t know the things he now did, the things Stark had found, had shown him when they arrived a week ago. Steve should have said something then, but he’d known Clint wouldn’t listen.

He still might not.

Clint rounded on Steve, a look of near murderous rage on his face. Steve shivered and fought the urge to step back. “This isn’t any of your business,  _ Steve. _ ”

“Maybe you should listen to him,” Steve pushed, hands up placatingly. “You don’t have to like what he says, but if it is what I think it is, I think you should, at least, hear him out.”

Barney shot him a grateful look even as Clint’s hands clenched at his sides. He growled at Steve.

“There is no excuse for what he did!” Clint insisted.

“They used that fucking machine on me, and you don’t think that might have influenced my actions?” Barney snapped. “Fucking  _ hell!  _ You don’t seem to have that problem with your precious  _ Winter _ .”

Clint turned and slammed Barney into the wall so quickly, Steve was caught off guard. He surged forward to grab Clint and yank him away.

“That thing doesn’t  _ work  _ on Barton's, you fucking asshole! Liar!”

Steve struggled, pulling Clint away. There was shouting along the hallway and he hoped he could nip this in the bud before it could get any worse.

“And who told you  _ that,  _ Clint? Them? You don’t think HYDRA wasn’t manipulating you?  _ Us?  _ It’s what they did! They tore people apart and put them back together the way  _ they  _ wanted. Just look at your lover! Look what they did to  _ him!” _ Barney growled. “They broke his brain!”

“Leave him  _ out  _ of this!” Clint pulled against Steve’s grip and Steve had to plant his feet. This wasn’t exactly the sort of grappling he’d imagined with Clint for later in the day. Jesus.

“Clint, he’s not wrong. Tony gave me some files –" Steve grunted as Clint threw his weight back. “The Barton healing factor  _ does  _ kick in, fast, but the chair – goddammit, Clint! Stop trying to kill your brother and  _ listen _ for a second!”

“Thank you, Steve,” Barney started and Steve glared back at Barney.

“I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for him. You and I aren’t friends. You and I both know you pushed this issue before he was read –“

“Before he was ready? And when was that going to be? Of  _ course  _ I pushed it! You four are almost out of here, you’re almost done with your  _ mission _ , and then what would my chances be after that?” Barney snapped. “I’m done waiting! I’ve had to wait for almost 70 years. Do you even know what that’s  _ like? _ ”

Steve’s grip faltered at the reminder of what Clint, Barney and Winter had been through, all while he slept in the ice, and Clint tore out of it, slamming Barney into the wall, hand at his throat. Barney, for his part, wasn’t fighting anymore. His hands had come up to grip Clint’s shoulders. He spoke, voice choked under Clint’s grip.

“Clint, you remember the chair? How fuzzy things were after for a couple of days? Mostly it was just pain. God, so much of it,” Barney gasped. “But it was more –“

Steve heard the beat of Clint’s heart, already pounding, pick up, and then there was a mechanical whine behind him and Tony’s arm appeared in Steve’s view, Iron Man armor donned. “Let him go or I’ll shoot you.”

“Tony, wait –“ Steve shouted, stepping between Tony and the Barton’s.

“I told you to keep them in line, Steve,” Tony growled. “Now get out of the way, or I’ll shoot you too!”

“Don’t you even try it.”

Steve’s heart jumped at the low, dangerous growl in Winter’s voice. Fuck, how had this escalated so quickly? This was exactly what he’d been worried about, coming back here with the others. That it had waited so long had been a fucking miracle.

Clint ignored everyone behind him, and Steve could see the white knuckled grip on his hand. Barney didn’t look away from his brother, but he’d dropped one hand from Clint’s shoulder and was waving the others off.

“It ain’t gonna kill me, Stark,” Barney managed. “An’ ya ain’t gonna kill him either. So back down.”

“Like hell – “

“You heard him, back down before this turns into a brawl,” Steve said, relief filling him at the reminder that the Barton’s couldn’t  _ actually _ kill each other. Probably. “You don’t think these two alone could wreck this place? What about if you start firing that in here? Or when Winter or I try to stop you? You gotta let them work this out.”

“The chair didn’t work, Barney,” Clint said, his voice now uncertain, wavering, his fingers slackening their hold, though they didn’t let go. “It couldn’t wipe us or reprogram us. It was just pain. You can’t lie to me.”

“Yeah, I can, but not about this,” Barney said, eyes pleading. “Clint, they  _ told  _ us it didn’t work, because for them it  _ didn’t. _ What good’s a brainwashed soldier who can fight off their programming before the day is over? And of  _ course  _ they used that to their advantage. They planted the seeds of doubt between us so that you were trapped. And then you and  _ him –"  _ Barney snarled the word, eyes flicking over to Winter and back to Clint. “You stopped trying to escape, little brother. And I couldn’t stay.”

“You  _ abandoned _ me –" the crack in Clint’s voice broke Steve’s heart. He stepped up close to Clint, laid a hand between his shoulder blades. Clint’s head bowed, his fingers loosening.

“I couldn’t get you out,” Barney whispered. “You believed them, and you wouldn’t leave  _ his  _ side and then they collared you. Believe me, I wanted to, Clint. I wanted to so bad. You’re the only one  _ I  _ had and they took you from me. They destroyed me.”

Clint’s shoulders shook and trembled beneath Steve’s hand and Barney’s fingers twitched on Clint’s shoulder. Barney pushed away from the wall –

And Clint jolted back, slammed into Steve and pivoted, breathing hard, eyes wild. He nearly ran from them, down the hallway. Barney looked to pursue and Steve shoved him back into the wall.

“I get it,” Steve said. “I do, but you gotta let him  _ process _ .” Without taking his eyes off Barney, Steve said, “Winter?”

“I’ll look after him.”

Steve heard the sound of something sliding back into a sheath, heard the whine of Tony’s repulsor tech powering down and something inside Steve relaxed finally. He stared at Barney. “If I let you go, will you give him space or hunt him down?”

Barney let out a breath and closed his eyes, banging his head against the wall. “Space. Fuck. Let me go.”

Steve dropped his hand, turned, glared at Tony for good measure and then stalked off after Winter and Clint.

When he got back to the room the four of them had been sharing, now that Nat had released herself from Tony’s medical unit the other night, he hesitated. He’d just threatened Barney to give Clint space and now he was here, forcing himself  _ into  _ it.

He had just about resolved to turn away and leave them be when Winter looked up to see Steve hovering in the door. “What are you doin’ all the way over there? Come and help me take care of our fella.”

Clint didn’t object and with a breath of relief, Steve pushed inside, closing the door behind him.

He could do that. Whatever they needed. He could be there for them.


	25. Coming to a Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to some efforts by Tony and his crew, there's only one chair left to find - but it proves to be one of the most difficult to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And our Interlude (which hadn't been planned on at all) is over and our gang is back to their mission - which includes some violence.  
> Reminder - Happy Ending is coming. Don't Kill me!

**“** It’s gone.”

“What.” The word was flat as it left Clint’s mouth. Winter stared, frozen in place.

“Tony – “ Steve started.

Tony stood abruptly, pacing the room with a now familiar metal clank. “The one in Los Angeles, it’s gone. We got the one in Cairo, purely by accident, but  _ that _ one, is gone.”

“Are you telling me you went without us?” Nat asked slowly, the temperature in the room dropping a couple of degrees with the ice in her voice. Around the large conference room they were all gathered in – Tony’s crew and Steve’s - several of the Avengers shifted a little uncomfortably. Peter stared around with big, round eyes.

Tony paused to give her an unimpressed look. “Look, I heard some rumors and it’s not like we weren’t already doing this before we ran into you, okay? And you thought, what, that we put the world saving on hold because we had a little company?” Tony scoffed. “Yeah, we went without you. Besides, we didn’t know this was supposed to be one of the locations your lot would have been interested in till we got there.”

“It was imperative that we went when we did,” Thor broke in. “We raided several HYDRA bases while you warriors recovered your spirits here. Friend Stark had heard rumors that some of the bases were being relocated. This and the one in Cairo, were among them. We made as much haste as we were able but we were already too late.”

Sam nodded. “The place was gutted.”

“Exactly,” Tony said. Pictures floated into the air, hovering between them all. “It’s got the hookups. It was definitely one of the places they were using for evil brainwashing purposes. But not anymore.”

“What about the one in Cairo? Was it –“ Winter asked, voice rough.

The pictures changed to rubble, barely recognizable. “It was there. Thor kinda went to town on it. So did I for that matter. That’s one more chair you guys – and nobody else for that matter – will ever have to worry about again,” Tony said, his voice softer than Steve could ever remember hearing it, unless he was talking to Peter. Or Pepper. “Figured you would want picture evidence, so…”

Steve dropped his face into his hands. There’d been one left. One fucking chair left. Now they were going to be led on a wild goose chase trying to find where they’d moved it. God, he was just so tired.

And if he felt this bad, how did the others feel?

“Do not despair,” Thor boomed. “We shall conquer this evil, and you valiant warriors will have earned your much-deserved rest.”

“Yeah, but how  _ long?”  _ Clint asked, bitterness creeping into his voice. “How much longer do we have to wait for that ‘rest’?”

“Look, I’ve already got feelers out,” Tony insisted. “We’ve got a few likely targets to hit already.” The screen changed, a map with circled locations, blown up to the sides, captioned.

“Sokovia, Azzano, Romania - wait, are you fucking kidding me? Area 51? Really?” Clint snorted.

“It’s a myth, a ghost story. Where else better to hide something than a place that doesn’t exist?” Tony pointed out.

“Right,” Clint drawled, rolling his eyes.

Nat leaned over and nudged him. “He’s not wrong. Some of us were myths or ghost stories, once upon a time.”

Clint sighed, eyes flicking over to Winter and back to Tony. “Okay, what have we got?”

Tony grinned. “The most likeliest targets – “ Tony droned on and Steve dropped his hand to actively help with a plan of action.

Despite Tony’s network of information – where he was getting any of it, Steve had no clue – it took another two weeks of jetting around to cross places off his list of possibilities.

Area 51 had been a disappointment, especially to Winter with his newly reawakened love of science fiction. In Sokovia, they’d liberated a pair of twins that were exhibiting remarkable powers, Tony offering them a home. They’d looked at him suspiciously, until Peter began working on them.

Azzano had brought nightmares for both Winter and Steve, but Nat and Clint being there grounded them, helped them through the memories that – in Winter’s case – threatened to overwhelm him.

The last and final chair turned out to be in Bucharest, of course. The very last place they checked. Why there, was anyone’s guess. But Sam had sent a drone in and Tony had scanned the place, neither of them getting too close while they confirmed it.

It was also locked down tight and filled with more enemy HYDRA than Hungary had been, and Hungary had been a trap that almost cost Steve  _ everyone. _

He had a severely bad feeling about this, but this time they wouldn’t be going in alone.

Tony, Thor, Peter, T’Challa, Sam and Barney, in addition to him, Winter, Clint and Nat. Only ten of them, sure, but they were hardly indicative of the abilities of the normal population, most of which made up HYDRA’s ranks.

If they had someone more capable, someone more like  _ them,  _ surely HYDRA would have sent them up against their weapon already?

Winter and Clint had  _ been  _ their weapons. Barely controlled.

So they went in, expecting the worst, hoping for the best and suiting up accordingly. Tony, it seemed, had been busy – between parenting, hosting and running down HYDRA bases, he’d still managed to make a handful of new suits for Steve, Nat and Winter.

“Not quite as durable as I wanted them to be, but, better than nothing,” Tony had said as he passed them out.

To say Steve and the others were surprised would be an understatement. But they’d accepted the gifts, piled onto the Wakandan Jet, and set off for Romania.

Now here they were, wearing earbuds that made Steve’s ear itch a little, staring down at the HYDRA base. He’d studied the schematics Tony’s scan and Sam’s drone had gotten and they’d quickly realized that they’d have to take down the whole damn base before they could reach the chair.

Nobody suggested a Nuke. Not after New York. Not after Project Insight.

They’d be going in on foot and, well, they’d be going in to face HYDRA’s small army one on one.

“We’ve faced worse odds,” Winter suddenly murmured. “Remember that Nazi camp back in – “ his words faltered. The memory was there, but obviously not all of it.

Steve clapped Winter on the shoulder. “Which one? They all tended to blur together after a while. But they all had one thing in common. They always underestimated us.”

He grinned and Winter grinned back, a ghost of Bucky and something new, and then they moved. Like a well-oiled machine, with Steve calling the shots, the little team of 10 cut through the base like a hot knife through butter.

Not that there weren’t close calls, not that it wasn’t hard work, but Steve pushed through with grim determination, always watching, always moving.

It was long and grueling but finally, finally, with the Avengers split between the outside and the upper levels, and Steve, Winter, Nat and Clint going through the lower levels, finally they arrived at their one, true objective.

There was a human shield about 4 layers thick, all with weapons trained on them as they rounded the corner after the grenade they’d tossed down first.

And Rumlow was standing in the front, smirking, arms crossed over his chest. There was some sort of flickering light between them and Steve cursed. The human shield was completely unnecessary, but Rumlow had pulled one together anyway, because he loved to fucking gloat.

Or he didn’t trust the shield technology, Steve realized. Which meant there was a weakness they might be able to exploit. All four of them dove for cover, Steve using his shield to meet the barrage of bullets that broke out.

Whatever the shielding they were using was, it was apparently one way, since none of HYDRA’s bullets were having any trouble penetrating the electric shield. Steve bounced off it, a strange, dull, shriek piercing the room as his own shield scraped along the wall of the electric one. paint scraped off and he gritted his teeth together. He knew paint jobs would fade or be destroyed, but he was feeling inexplicably upset with the damage to Clint’s paint job.

Okay, it was probably perfectly self-explainable, he just didn’t have time to dwell on that, right now. Not when there were a number of agents between him and their objective, and Rumlow was fucking smirking.

“Well, well, well, look what the Cap dragged in,” Rumlow drawled. “A few of our wayward assets. Thank you, Cap. We owe you a debt.”

“You’re not getting your hands on them,” Steve growled, pushing his shield against Rumlow’s, watching sparks flare as he put his body weight into it. He was met with resistant force but it was… it was  _ bending _ , sort of. Steve continued to push. Maybe he could break through it with enough force.

“Rogers, don’t be stupid, get back!” Nat shouted. It jolted Steve, hearing her call him Rogers, before he reminded himself that she often tried to separate the multiple parts of her life, keeping them neatly labeled into boxes.

“It’s not impervious,” Steve shouted. “If we all go for it at once, impacting the same spot, we can break through.”

“Steve. Move.” Clint’s sharp command broke through and Steve ducked in time to watch a handful of arrows slam into the shield and  _ stick _ , hanging in midair as an arc of energy bounced between them.

A hand grabbed the back of his uniform and dragged him back even as Clint dove out of the way.

A sharp crack and a flash of bright light and Rumlow started cursing. Steve uncovered his eyes to see that the telltale shimmer of the electric shield was down and Clint’s arrows now were burned, blackened husks on the floor.

Everyone was stunned and frozen for just one second. And then Steve’s side and Rumlow recovered, charging at one another, Rumlow’s men a mere half step behind, opening fire as they went.

In close quarters, it was almost impossible to dodge bullets. The only thing that saved Steve was his shield, and then he was face to face with Rumlow.

“I owe you an ass kicking,” Rumlow said, his eyes shining with a mad glint that Steve was pissed he’d never noticed was there before. Rumlow had been a double agent. And, Steve had thought, a friend of sorts. And Rumlow thought  _ he  _ deserved something for the events that had transpired?

“I think you’ve got that backwards, asshole,” Steve said. They surged forward, grappling in hand to hand combat while the fighting flowed around them. Winter, Clint and Nat were all well capable of taking care of themselves and taking care of about 20 HYDRA agents near single handedly, much less in a group.

They had this. Steve grinned even as Rumlow lunged for him.

Trading blows, Steve let the adrenaline carry him, part of his attention on the others, as always. Nat, the most vulnerable since she was only recently recovered, taking the bulk of it, but Steve was pleased to see that, despite the numbers against them, the others were doing just as well as he’d expected.

Rumlow snapped a fist forward and Steve dodged.

“Can’t even pay attention to me, Cap?” Rumlow snarled. “I’m not worth your time?”

“Not really, Rumlow,” Steve said, mostly saying it just to piss him off. Rumlow  _ was  _ good, but the fight wasn’t nearly as challenging as the ones he’d had with Winter. Still, he was good enough, despite no serum – or who knew, actually, what HYDRA might have done to enhance him – to give Steve a workout.

“You’re going to regret that,” Rumlow said, a smirk sliding over his face. The smirk was all too well assured and Steve felt unease flickering through him.

The shied snapped back up, a different one actually, smaller, more contained, and separating him from the rest of the room, cornering him with Rumlow. He paused, taking it in, and looking back at Rumlow. “Really? This is your solution? Trapping yourself with me?”

“No, I’m trapping you here, with this,” Rumlow said, stepping back. He pulled a vial out of his vest and snapped it open, gas immediately pouring out. Steve stepped back warily. “It’ll be more concentrated this way.”

“You’ve already shown that things can pass through the shield,” Steve pointed out. “Besides, you’re just as trapped as I am with whatever that is.”

“Hmm… Right, right, except, see Cap, I control the shield and right now, it’s completely impervious, both ways.” Rumlow tossed the vial to the ground, dead center of the small space. “As for this? It's specially tailored for people with the serum. People who aren’t me. Made it for your boy over there, in case he went off the rails. But I’ve got more. Two birds, one stone.”

Steve’s blood ran cold at the idea of Rumlow getting anywhere near Winter with, with whatever the gas was. Was it a poison to kill them? No, it couldn’t be that. HYDRA would want to control their asset, so it would probably weaken them, maybe knock them out. Fuck, who knew how long Steve had before it took effect.

He lunged at Rumlow, bashing into him with full body weight behind his shield and swung his fist past it, catching Rumlow on the jaw. Rumlow was pushed back from the force of it, but already swinging back in, a mad grin on his face.

“10,” he said.

Steve’s heart started rabbiting in his chest, feeling far too much like the days of old for his liking. He blocked Rumlow – “ _ 9”  _ – and swung again, but Rumlow deflected it far too easily.

“8,” Rumlow crowed as he continued to count down.

In his peripherals, Steve could still see the fighting happening beyond the shield, could see Winter turning, see his face morphing into horror –

“7,” Rumlow continued, pushing Steve back with every blow and kick. “6.” It was getting harder to breathe, the gas filling the space between them and making Steve’s eyes  _ water and burn _ . “5.”

It was so  _ hard  _ to move, suddenly, like his muscles had turned to molasses. Steve struggled, unable to avoid Rumlow’s blows anymore, concentrating – instead – on taking him out as fast as he could.

“4.”

A knife appeared in Rumlows hand.

“3.”

He spun it around and slipped it past Steve’s shield. Steve grunted at the impact of the knife in his side, gritting his teeth at the pain of it. Grunted again when his back hit the solid form of the energy shield.

“2 – give it up, Cap. You’re as good as dead,” Rumlow pressed against him, whispered into his ear with triumph and he twisted the knife deep.

He didn’t get a chance to finish the countdown. The point was moot anyway, whether he said it aloud or not. Steve howled and slammed his head into Rumlow’s, forcing him back. He stumbled to his knees as Rumlow staggered away with a curse.

Light exploded around them and noise filled in like a torrent as the shield fell again. The gas cleared away enough to see Winter charging at Rumlow and to see Clint’s arrows hit the ground. Steve coughed, struggling to push himself up off his hands and knees.

“Don’t –“ he choked, reaching towards the struggling pair. “The gas – serum – inhibitor…”

“He’s got him, Steve,” Nat’s voice said in his ear, helping him to sit, to lean back into her body. “I’ve called for Tony.”

The figures in front of Steve became a hazy blur. Dammit, no, he hated being helpless. He needed to be there for Clint, for Winter, for Nat.

“Help me up,” Steve said, struggling to stand. “I have to help them.”

“Don’t,” Nat said sharply. “They’ve got this. They need this. Pierce is gone, thanks to Tony fucking with the algorithms. The chairs needed to go, but so does  _ he.” _

Steve’s eyes tried valiantly to follow the fight between the three men, but it moved far too fast for his straining eyes. Nat murmured to him, narrated little bits here and there as Steve still struggled to stand but there was no need for his help.

With the gas dissipated and no one left to call on for backup, Rumlow succumbed quickly to the wrath of Winter and Clint.

The room went still and quiet except for Steve’s harsh and quick breathing.

“Is it… is it done? He’s dead?” Steve gasped out.

Clint and Winter were at his side in an instant.

“Shit,” Clint hissed. “He’s bleeding a lot. There’s no way he should be bleeding this much. Not with the serum –“

Steve shook his head. “Rumlow…neutralized it,” he said between gasps. “Don’t know… if it’s permanent or temporary.” Nat shifted behind him and Steve groaned, clenching his teeth and eyes shut tight.

“No, no, no, Steve! Stevie!” Winter grabbed Steve. “You can’t do this to me, to  _ us.  _ You can’t leave.”

“Sorry,” Steve said. his head was spinning, that gas – though dissipated – was already in his system and it was continuing to wreak havoc on him. “I’m sorry….”

“Steve!” Winter snapped, voice pleading. Clint was saying something too, tones filled with distress, but Steve’s hearing was slipping as well… consciousness was slipping… head whirling, limbs heavy…

Then Steve’s world went black and his mind blissfully quiet…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fight scenes are hard but i am pretty proud of that last bit with steve and rumlow EEEEEEE i had to keep renumbering things as i went but it finally worked out.
> 
> I will have you know, that i was urged NOT to post the epilogue at the same time and to just be evil.


	26. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wakes in Wakanda and finds that some things have changed - but maybe it's for the better?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the end, dear friends. thank you for putting up with this wip and commenting! thank you to lirael - again - for all the reading over cause i was super anxious about this one
> 
> i know this could have gone darker than it did, but apparently i'm just not capable of that. if anyone wants to take this idea and go that direction, i'd love to see it.

When Steve woke, it was slowly. He blinked his eyes open and stared. The room was unfamiliar. Nothing he’d come to recognize from the 20 th century, or SHIELD. It wasn’t Tony’s compound, or what he’d expect from HYDRA either. There was no beeping, like he’d expect if he was in medical, but when he tried to move, he groaned.

There was a rustle beside him in response and when he managed to turn his head, he saw the last person he’d expected to see.

Tony.

His heart sank.

Where were Nat, Clint and Winter?

“Tony?” he asked hoarsely.

“There you are, cap. How do you feel?” Tony asked, leaning over a little.

Steve frowned and attempted to sit up. He felt weaker than normal and he looked down at himself. It took his mind a bit to process what he was seeing. He had wireless sensors attached to his body, and his body was…

It was no longer the big, buff body he’d almost gotten used to. But… it also wasn’t the sickly, skinny thing he’d had before the war, before Erskine and the serum.

“What’s going on?” Steve blurted, horror rolling through him. Fuck, what had happened to his body - Rumlow. Rumlow said something about neutralizing the serum. everything good about him, that had finally made people sit up and pay any attention to him, had come from the serum. Was it gone? Was he regressing?

“Well,” Tony said, clearing his throat. “Good news is, you’re alive. Good news, bad news – depending on your perspective – is that you’re no longer a super soldier.”

“What?” Steve inhaled, his mind flashing to Winter and Nat and Clint. “I can’t – no, there has to – they won’t –“

Steve’s breathing picked up, his chest going tight. He couldn’t, they couldn’t, this couldn’t be happening. what was he going to do now??

“Relax, Steve,” Tony said. “You’re not going back to what you were before, you’re just not a super soldier either. You’re… more like Clint now, sort of.”

Steve took a second to work through some deep breaths, trying to stave off his panic. When he finally thought he could speak again, he leveled his narrowed gaze on Tony.

“What do you mean?” Steve demanded.

“The Wakandans did it. Damn if I know how. It’ll take constant treatments, and it’s never going to be marketable as the fountain of youth, but you and Nat are both getting treatments based off Clint’s blood. And Barney’s, I guess. Doesn’t give you superpowers or enhanced strength, but you’re getting the healing, the lifespan that he does. Or, as close as they can get, anyway.”

Steve shook his head. “But… “ he stared down at his hands, at the not quite muscled parts of his body, the little pudge at his stomach. “But I’m different now. How can I – can they – “

“Listen up, icepop,” Tony said sharply. “If you think the three of them are with you because of your body? You’re wrong. You didn’t see them when you got hurt, okay. You’re still you, no matter the packaging, and I guarantee that the packaging was just a bonus, not the whole shebang.”

“No, if they cared – why aren’t they – “

“Here? Yeah, well, Princess Shuri is a force of nature. Winter is getting deprogrammed, Nat is in a separate room for her own treatments, and Clint and Barney are both being used as guinea pigs to help refine the treatments the two of you are getting. Trust me, they’d be here if they could.”

Steve twisted his hands together and nodded jerkily. Tony sighed. 

“You want proof? Okay,” Tony mumbled.

He pulled out his phone and a holographic screen sprang to life in front of Steve. On it, a video played, from the perspective of the Iron Man suit, Steve realized. Audio crackled and cleared, several voices shouting through Tony’s coms. It was a jumble, but he could hear panicked tones from Clint, Winter and Nat.

And screaming. His, Steve realized in horror. No wonder his throat felt so raw.

Tony blasted his way down to where Steve had his showdown with Rumlow. Nat was hovering and cursing, hands clenched into fists while Clint was trying desperately to patch up the bleeding hole in Steve’s gut, while Steve writhed and screamed, Winter pleading with Steve, trying to hold him down.

“I can't even touch him,” Nat said when Tony touched down beside her. “I can’t…” her voice broke. “I’ll just make it worse,” she trailed off in a whisper.

Tony had to force his way between Clint and Winter to get at Steve, had to threaten them both, cajole them to let Steve go before Tony could pick Steve up in a bridal carry and fly him back out to the jet, T'Challa and Sam both meeting him there.

Moments later, Winter, Clint and Nat all raced out of the HYDRA base and onto the ship. They’d followed far too closely to have taken care of their objective. 

Steve held his breath as the image faded.

“Whatever Rumlow dosed you with hit you hard. You wouldn't stop screaming and it was as much from that as your wounds, as far as anyone could tell. They wouldn’t let you out of their sight and when Nat told Sam about the gas Rumlow hit you with, we knew we wouldn’t be able to help you back at the compound. That’s when T’Challa stepped in, offered to open his borders to us.” Tony looked flabbergasted, his voice filled with wonder. “Just wait till you’re up and walking around. This place is amazing.”

He shook his head and looked back at Steve. “Anyway, if you think they don’t care for you, you’re not only wrong, you're stupid. And you’re not a stupid man, Cap. You’ve made three of the most deadly people on the planet fall in love with you, and I don’t think it has anything to do with your body. That was just a perk. A glorious perk, to be sure, but that’s all it was.”

“Sure, Tony,” Steve said. He wanted to believe it, he really did, but they hadn’t known when they were rushing to his side that it would fundamentally change him the way it had. “I’m tired,” he said, realizing suddenly it was true.

Tony nodded. “Yeah, that’s to be expected. Get some sleep, Cap.”

Steve drifted off in a confusing tangle of doubts and certainties. 

The second time Steve woke up he could feel someone clutching his hand. He turned his head to find Winter curled as close to the bed as he could get from a chair without crawling into it. Clint’s head lay on Winter's shoulder and both of them were sleeping. Nat was nowhere in sight. Steve’s gut twisted at that, but he pushed it down, reminding himself of what Tony had said.

The scene was reminiscent of the old days. The days when he got sick so often, nights where he and Bucky feared he wouldn’t make it. Nights where Bucky had sat vigil at Steve’s bedside, filled with worry as Steve coughed, wheezed and sweated through whatever had hit him this time.

“Well,” Steve croaked. “This feels familiar.”

Winter’s head shot up, dislodging Clint who jerked awake and scanned the room, cutting the scan short when both their eyes landed on Steve. Relief filled their faces and Steve’s breath caught in a way that had nothing to do with healing.

“You’re awake,” Clint said, jumping up. He was grinning and his hands fluttered towards Steve, then away, thumping Winter on the back. “I’ll get Nat, see if they’ve finished with her yet.” He ran out of the room, looking back at Steve with a giddy look, before disappearing around the corner.

Steve blinked in surprise at the abrupt departure, at the joy on Clint’s face, as he watched him depart the strange room.

“You stupid punk,” Winter breathed, drawing Steve’s attention back to him. “You are _ not _ allowed to die on us, you hear me? Haven’t we all lost enough?”

“Didn’t intend to,” Steve admitted softly. He stared at Winter. Tony had said, had even tried to show him, but Steve still hadn’t believed. Seeing the naked joy on Clint’s face, the relief and something soft in Winter’s gaze… they really did care for him, didn’t they?

His throat worked as he stared at Winter, his eyes blurring with unshed tears. Winter crowded in closer, squeezing Steve’s hand. His hair was pulled back into a partial bun, keeping it out of his face. It looked good on him, actually.

“What is going through that fool head of yours?” Winter murmured.

“I’m different now,” Steve said, looking away from Winter, down at his body, smaller now, though not as frail as it had been once. He shook his head. “Nothing, I’m being stupid.”

“Tell me, or it’s gonna fester,” Winter said all too shrewdly.

Steve sighed.

“You’ve always known me so well,” he said softly. He shook his head, tried to pull his hand away from Winter’s but Winter wasn’t having it. 

“I know this is stupid, but, I’ve changed. Whatever Rumlow did to me, whatever the Wakandans did to fix it, I’m not what I used to be. Who you’ve all been with this whole time. Winter, I can look down and  _ see _ how much I’ve changed. I won’t be as strong as before, you realize? I won’t be… I’m not  _ special  _ anymore. I’ve gotta face the fact that I’m just not the same as I was.” Steve faltered. “And… and I was afraid that -”

He choked, unable to voice the fear that had been plaguing him, even before  _ this. _

“That we’d leave you?” Nat said from the door, Clint escorting her in.

Her and Clint crossed the room, Steve frozen under their gazes, feeling caught out. Nat looked exhausted, as did Clint, Steve realized. And Winter too. All the rest they’d gotten at Tony’s seemed to have been obliterated. This last mission had been hard on all of them, he realized.

Clint blinked as they reached Steve and Winter and his eyes went wide. “You did, didn’t you?” he asked. “You honestly thought we’d leave you?” Steve could see the hurt Clint didn’t mask. 

He… Clint wasn’t  _ masking _ it. None of them were.

Clint - and Winter and Nat, all of whom had lives that made guarding their true feelings a lifesaving technique - was leaving his feelings right there in the open, for anyone, for Steve, to see. No covering up with bravado, or smirks, or snark. And Steve had been ready to believe that they didn’t care for him the same as he did them. 

_ Jesus, how wrong have I been? _ He wondered.  _ This whole time, how many clues have I overlooked because of my own fears? _

“Why the hell would we leave you?” Clint asked. “I can’t believe - How could you  _ doubt  _ us?”

“No,” Winter said, “Not us. He doubts himself. Always has. Was always testin' me.” Winter reached forward, pushing away the infernal bangs that had fallen into Steve’s face. He needed a haircut. And a shave. Maybe. He wasn’t sure about that last. The others seemed to like the rough scrape of his beard on their skin.

And it was looking more and more like he  _ was  _ wanted. Had been wanted for who knew how long that he’d simply  _ missed _ it. Steve closed his eyes and leaned into Winter’s hand, but he groped blindly forward with his own until it was engulfed by Clint’s long fingers, Nat’s deceptively gentle ones.

Nat’s touch tingled, but didn’t burn the way it had. And the tingle – it was more like the thrill he got when Winter or Clint touched him, or when he touched any of them.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. “I am. Winter’s right. I’ve always been…” Steve blew out a breath. “Never thought anybody would waste their time on me.”

“Our time with you has never been seen as wasted,” Nat said. “Doesn’t matter that you’ve changed. That’s just the packaging. You’re still the stubborn, big hearted man I’ve come to care for.”

Winter chuckled. “He’s always been that.”

Clint was nodding and Steve felt himself choking up again. He squeezed their hands, sending them a smile, tremulous but real.

They smiled back, relief and happiness on their faces.

The moment was abruptly broken with a sound from the door. They didn’t pull away from him, but their faces shuttered some, their bodies straightened and they all turned to face T’Challa as he came through.

“Ah, captain, you’re awake.” T’Challa smiled as he entered, several others following him inside. “I’d like you to meet my sister, Shuri. It is through her and her staff that we were able to help you and yours this day.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Uh, thank you.”

She looked so young. Not quite as young as Peter maybe, but he wasn’t sure.

"Also, as  prince of Wakanda, I'd like to officially extend an offer of sanctuary, here in my country, to the four of you. I feel that here you would finally know peace,” T’Challa said. Steve jolted. How had he forgotten that T’Challa was a  prince? And that would make Shuri a princess.

Shiri bounced forward. "You should be honored. You’re the first foreigners to be allowed within our borders in  _ ages," _ she said excitedly. “Our father was very put out when my brother brought foreigners here, but he has been persuaded.”

“That is… it’s a very generous offer, your highness,” Steve said slowly, unsure if it was one they should accept or not. “But what about HYDRA, did we - “

“We will likely be rooting HYDRA out of their dens for some time to come," T’Challa admitted. Steve tensed, because if this wasn’t over, then how could they settle down  _ anywhere?  _ “However, your part – all of your parts - is over, if you so wish. I think it is time that you rest.”

“The chair?” Steve asked, turning towards Winter, towards Clint, thinking back to Tony’s video. They hadn’t stayed behind to make sure - 

“Gone. Destroyed. Thor took care of it for us,” Clint said.

“He is… very thorough,” Winter said.

Steve looked at them both in confusion. “You let Thor… ? _ Why? _ It was  _ your _ mission.”

Nat tugged at Steve’s hand, making him turn to her. “You were more important.”

“You don’t understand, punk, how close you actually came to dying, okay? If it weren’t for the prince , here, I really think you would have,” Winter said. “That knife wound wasn’t your  _ only  _ injury, did you even realize that?”

“You scared the living shit out of us,” Clint said. “Not much can do that anymore so, please, try not to do it again.”

Nat turned to T’Challa. “Your offer is most generous, your highness. We’ll likely take you up on it, but I think we need some time to talk about it first.”

“Of course,” T’Challa said. “Take your time, but know that Tony Stark wishes to know your answer so that he can retrieve a certain pet that was left behind, should you choose to stay here.”

He inclined his head and left, his entourage going with him, though Shuri was reluctant and had to be dragged away by the elbow.

In the sudden silence, the four of them looked at each other. “So…. “ Clint said, finally, “What are we all thinking?”

“About his offer of sanctuary?” Nat asked. Clint nodded.

Winter stared past them all for a moment or two, Steve watching the wheels in his head turning. “I think... there’s no safer place than Wakanda. Did you see the way it looked as we flew over it? Untouched by HYDRA. Untouched by…” Winter's voice faltered. “By Project Insight.”

“You think we should do it? Should we take the offer?” Nat asked.

Winter nodded slowly. “Yes, yes I think we should.”

“Clint?” Nat turned to Clint and Clint shrugged.

“I don’t care, as long as we’re left alone,” Clint said.

“Steve?”

“Wherever the three of you are, that’s where I want to be. If it’s here in Wakanda, then I’m fine with that. Anywhere would be fine – “ Steve paused and let a smile flow over his face. “Might draw a line at any known HYDRA bases or Antarctica, of course.”

Clint smacked his shoulder lightly and Nat giggled – honest to god giggled – and Winter just shook his head, though he was grinning himself.

“That’s terrible, Rogers,” Winter snarked.

“Learned from the best, Barnes,” Steve said, his mouth following an old routine between them before he could stop himself.

Winter hummed, turning Steve’s hand over and over in his. “Y’know, I thought of who I was and who I’d be, now that I can change it to whatever I damn well wanted. And I’m not Bucky anymore, nor James. And I don’t want to be Winter either. Think I wanna be called Seamus. It’s new, but still has connections to our past – to both our pasts,” Winter – Seamus – said.

“Seamus,” Steve said, trying it out on his tongue. It was Irish for James, a connection to his old name, and a connection to Steve’s family roots all rolled into one. But Seamus had grown beyond just his and Steve’s roots. Steve’s eyes flickered over to Nat and Clint and back to Seamus and Seamus smiled.

“Nat helped me pick it out, and Clint has already given me a nickname, which I’m finding that I  _ actually _ like.” Clint crowed as Seamus spoke and Seamus shook his head at Clint. “I didn’t, at first, but it grew on me. Both names did.”

Steve nodded. “It might take me some time to make that adjustment in my head, but whatever you want to be called, that’s what I’ll call you. You can count on me.”

“I know I can, we all do,” Seamus said.

Steve let himself relax into the soft bed, staring up at the three hovering, grinning faces with a smile of his own.

After all this time - longer for them, even, than him - would they finally get the opportunity to just… be? 

Steve found he was looking forward to it.

“How soon do you think I can be upgraded to a bed that fits all of us?” he asked.

Clint guffawed, Nat smiled and Seamus shook his head, a fond smile of his own twitching at his lips.

Yeah, Steve was really looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that this is the end of this story, but i do have more one shots started. both of which occur before this story. 
> 
> Also, i crowdsourced Winter's name change. And Clint's nickname for him is Shay :D
> 
> *EDIT* [ Rebloggable tumblr Post](https://pherryt.tumblr.com/post/618118320913285120/its-done-flails-like-kermit-last-two-chapters)


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